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“the wounded deer came I’D FROM THE BROOK AND STRAIGHT TO 

her” — Page 208 


THE KIND 
ADVENTURE 


BY 

STELLA GEORGE STERN PERRY 

• u 

AUTHOR OF "GO TO SLEEP*' 


WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR BY 
MARIA L. KIRK AND CARLTON GLIDDEN 



3 > > 

NEW YORK 

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 












Copyright, 1914, hy 

Frederick A. Stokes Company 

AU rights reserved, including tnat oj translation 
into foreign languages 


05rA38O34 7 



TO 

BARBARA HASTINGS AND 
MYRA LEE 

GOOD LITTLE FRIENDS OF EACH OTHER 
AND ME 


3 
























CONTENTS 


CHAPTER page 

I. How It All Began .... i 

II. A Primrose by the River’s Brim . 19 

III. Getting Acquainted .... 29 

IV. Neptune^s Pageant .... 43 

V. Much Joy and a Little Trouble . 53 

VI. John Candor 67 

VII. The Little House in the Woods . 75 

VHI. A Letter and a Lullaby ... 93 

IX. The Storm iii 

X. Primrose^s Cousin and Night in 

THE Woods 124 

XI. Two Letters and Some Hope . .145 

XII. The Old Woman Under the Hill 154 

XIII. What Tim Andrews Knew . . 169 

XIV. Betty Makes Up Her Mind . .187 

XV. Betty Balaustion .... 200 

XVI. Mr. Garland’s Secret . . .218 

XVII. Primrose and Her Cousin . . 234 

XVIII. Pleasant Plans 243 

XIX. Betty’s Birthday .... 252 

XX. The Little Blue Book . . . 269 

XXL The Candors’ Grandchild . . 282 

XXII. How THE Candors Received the 

News 288 

XXIII. Farewell to the Hills . . . 297 

XXIV. Delight at Candor Cottage . . 305 


i 



ILLUSTRATIONS 


‘The wounded deer came up from the 

brook and straight to her! ” Frontispiece '/ 


FACING 

PAGE 


‘The golden-haired girl did not run away, but y 

was smiling” 28 V 

‘In the silence, they saw a wonderful sight”. . . 136'^ 

‘ Miss Connie clasped her hands, and turned so 

white that Betty was afraid she was ill ” . . . 240 







THE KIND ADVENTURE 


CHAPTER I 

HOW IT ALL BEGAN 


T> ETTY ANDERSON sat on the porch of a 
little hotel in the mountains writing to her 
big brother. 

She made a pretty picture, with the sunlight 
flickering through the vines and shining on her 
black-and-white-check frock and the gay red neck- 
bow and crimson leather belt. You could not 
see her face, because her brown curls fell for- 
ward on each side of it and hid it like two little 
curtains, as she bent busily over her lap-desk. 

But if she had looked up you would have liked 
her. Everybody liked Betty. 

Her soft brown eyes were full of laughter 
and her lips turned up a little at the corners as 
if they wanted to laugh, too. Tiny, twinkling 
dimples seemed willing to help the mirth. But 
Betty’s laughing eyes were thoughtful and friendly 
as well; and anyone would feel sure that no 


2 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


unkind or angry words would come through 
Betty’s merry lips. 

Betty was happiest in the country. She loved 
this little mountain resort as if it were another 
home; for, although she lived in the city in 
winter, she was an outdoor girl through and 
through. She always preferred to sit in the 
sunniest places. The little hand moving so dili- 
gently across the paper was brown as a boy’s 
and the slender wrist looked firm and strong. 

Betty was a healthy, hearty young person. She 
moved quickly, and seldom walked when she could 
run. Her father said that when Betty went 
across the meadow he could not tell her from the 
skimming swallows. And the tips of her shoes 
were always worn out long before the rest of 
them. 

Nevertheless, there was nothing she liked bet- 
ter than sitting quietly on the porch writing to 
her big brother, Robert. 

For, you see, they were chums and comrades, 
although Robert was a young man and Betty only 
a child. “Nothing seems complete,” Betty often 
said, “until I’ve told Bob about it.” And, in the 
same way. Big Brother Bob felt that he wished to 
share all his pleasures with her. Therefore 
many letters passed between them when they were 
separated, as they were this summer when Rob- 


HOW IT ALL BEGAN 


3 

ert was at the seashore and Betty in the moun- 
tains. 

Now you may read a few of these letters. 
They will introduce you to Betty and Bob better 
than any one else can do, and, besides, they will 
let you see why The Kind Adventure began. 

Apple Tree Inn, 

Dear Brother Bob, July 19th. 

I hope you are having a good time. We are. 
Mother and Father have gone up the moun- 
tain — ^the big one, you remember, that has a 
weeny little bit of snow lying on the top some- 
times, like a white cap with strings. It will take 
two days to get up and down. 

I am still too little for any use. They say 
I may climb up, too — when I get bigger. By 
the way. Brother Bob, how old do you have to 
get before they stop saying “only”? Once I was 
“only ten” and last year I was “only eleven” and 
now Fm “only twelve.” You are the only grown- 
up who doesn’t say it. 

I have gathered you some balsam for a pillow. 
It is sweet, but dreadful prickly. Father says, 
“So is Betty, sometimes!” 

Your loving sister. 


Betty. 


4 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


Cape Wildwind, July 23rd. 

Dear Bettina, 

You are quite big enough, Miss. Once I 
could put you in my pocket and then I could 
lead you on a string; but now you lead me on 
a string and soon, I dare say, you will be put- 
ting me in your pocket. 

“Only twelve,” indeed! Why, it seems more 
than eleven years ago since I last saw Little Mis- 
tress Sisterkin as she climbed and kissed her kin 
with her hair in a curl and her skirts in a whirl 
and her tongue in a patter and a chatter and a 
clatter and not a thing the matter with the dear- 
est, queerest girl. 

I dearly love balsam and I don’t mind prickly 
things, if they’re sweet. 

I am having lots of fun here by the sea. I 
look ’way over, clear to France — you can’t see 
clear to France but you can look. And I make 
plans about that voyage we shall take when you 
are all through college and know so much that 
one country cannot hold you. I plan all man- 
ner of joy for the time 

When jolly Betty and sweet Bess 
And Betsey, strong and true, 

When gentle Beth, tart Lizzie — yes, 

Severe Eliza, too — 


HOW IT ALL BEGAN 


5 


When Lisbeth, calm and capable, 

And Elsie, fair and fond, 

And winsome, wise Elizabeth 
Go sailing on the pond. 

That will be a shipful ! 

Say, Bettykins, you haven’t forgotten our 
Giving-Somebody-a-Good-Time compact, have 
you? You ought not, for you originated it, one 
very virtuous day. And I like the notion too 
much to let it go. I mean the promise you and 
I made to each other that we are each to find 
somebody, while we’re vacationing, to whom our 
vacation shall give a happier time than would 
have been possible without us. 

We said that we’d write to each other the 
moment we found the right persons and tell all 
about our Adventure in Kindness. But, as you 
have not mentioned yours, I fear you have had 
no more success than I in finding any. 

So far, except to like the idea, I have done 
nothing. 

I’m not giving up hope, though. But this is 
a hotelful of the happiest people alive, I believe. 
They laugh and play and like one another; and 
there are no engaging invalids or cross old ladies 
or lonely children or spoiled ones or any of the 
trying but interesting people that there always are 


6 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


in stories. The fishermen and their families 
and “all the inhabitants of the land,” as your 
Cousin Kate keeps reading out of her Casar*s 
Commentaries, are bright and independent and 
perfectly content. 

So what can a poor reformer do, when no- 
body wants his wares? I shall hire a hut and 
put up a notice: 

CHEERLESS VACATIONERS WHO 
WOULD BE CHEERFUL 
APPLY WITHIN. 

So thus far, my history is a blank. What is 
Betty Bountiful’s? 

Lovingly, 

Big Brother Bob. 


Apple Tree Inn, July 26th. 

Dear B. B. B., 

I haven’t found anybody either. But I had 
not forgotten. 

You see, this is such a wee bit of a camp hotel, 
’way back in the woods here, and we have come 


HOW IT ALL BEGAN 


7 

every year for so many years that it seems to 
me we have known ’most everybody forever. 

There isn’t a single little girl here but me, 
and at first I was so lonely that I thought I 
should have work enough trying to cheer up my 
own vacation. For I didn’t have any books with 
me except Little Women and Alice and The Lady 
of the Lake^ because Father said I could have 
only three and those must be old friends — so my 
mind could have a vacation. They think I read 
too much. Not now ! For when you know three 
books almost entirely by heart, you can’t read 
them many times in a summer even when you 
love them and haven’t any others. 

I wanted to look about among the country peo- 
ple — there must be some I don’t know — for a 
b-e-n-e-f-i-c-i-a-r-y. I had to ask Mother how to 
spell that word and I wrote it down in pieces as 
she said it. But the grown people kept me so 
busy holding their worsted and fetching things 
and running to call their guides and getting 
flowers for their rooms and singing for them 
and playing the violin — it is so nice to have Mr. 
Shiver Strings up here in the woods! — that I 
haven’t had a chance yet to hunt up anybody to 
help or cheer. 

Doing all these things has filled up the time 
and been lots of fun. But they are just little 


8 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


things that anybody would do ; I think you and I 
meant something very special. Well, maybe there 
is a lost princess in the woods somewhere. 

We have a new guide. He looks like the polar 
bear in the Park, only happier. He has always 
lived around here and I shall ask him to-morrow 
whether he knows a “helpee” for me. Isn’t that 
a lovely make-up word? 

Love from us all and buckets from 

Betty. 


Cape Wildwind, July 29th. 

Betty ahoy! 

Such news I I have found the loveliest help- 
ees! An interesting pair of old lovers, an old 
couple who live just beyond the cove. No honey, 
don’t take out your pocket-handkerchief to wipe 
your streaming eyes. Not a poor old couple who 
need help. A rich and jolly old couple who need 
itl 

Now I can see Betty Bouncer just bouncing 
up and down in her chair and saying, “How pro- 
voking! Why doesn’t he tell about it?” So I 
will from the beginningest beginning. 

I was sitting near the beach in the shade of 
a scrubby little pine-tree that your great mon- 
archs of the forest would pity, on a scrubby lit- 


HOW IT ALL BEGAN 


9 


tie patch of grass that looks like a little rug laid 
out to dry upon the rocks and sand. And I had 
a book in my hand, but I wasn’t reading; and a 
pad and fountain-pen in my pocket, but I wasn’t 
writing; and a sketch-book and pencils, but I 
wasn’t sketching. So we must conclude, dear 
reader, that our hero was loafing on the shore. 

And away out over all the sparkle and tilt and 
fringe of the waves, wee white sails were drift- 
ing. Wee white sails, all but one! One was 
pale lavender and cloth of silver. Is that fairy- 
storyish enough for Your Highness? 

Oh! You can imagine how I tore to the hotel 
for my spy-glass. And, sure enough, a lavender 
and silver sail on the neatest little craft! She 
looked trim and dapper even ’way out on the 
rim of the world. So I got into my motor-boat. 
I know you like sail-boats better than splitter- 
splutters, but now you will be glad I had a power 
one. So I got into my motor-boat to follow and 
find, for well I knew my lot would be hard if 
I never could satisfy your “ ’satiable curiosity” as 
to that fairy boat. 

And she was a white boat with a silver band 
all around her and her name was enameled in 
purple letters and the name was — O Betty Bess! 
— The Violet Dawn! 

An old man with a face exactly like the elf- 


lO 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


ish, finely merry Santa Claus pictures — not the 
too fat, blowsy ones that do not look at all like 
the children’s saint — was sailing the boat. And 
a beautiful old lady who looked like all good 
wishes come true was singing to him. 

I came as near as I dared. It was so lovely 
I just couldn’t go away. But they didn’t think 
me rude for staying or staring. The old lady 
smiled sweetly at me and the old gentleman asked 
if I wished to know anything. 

And I said, “Yes, sir; I do — since you ask 
me. I wish to know all about this beautiful boat 
and her beautiful name and her beautiful sail. 
And, do forgive me, but I wish to know about 
your beautiful selves and the beautiful time you 
are having.” I don’t know how I dared; but there 
was something about them that just made you 
speak your heart out. 

They got quite rosy with pleasure and laughed 
and laughed and invited me to take tea with them 
that day at their home beyond the cove and 
promised that then they would tell me all about it. 

And as I drew away from The Violet Dawn, 
I called out, “I hope you forgive me. But I just 
felt that we are naturally friends.” The dear 
old lady smiled and called back, “My dear, the 
whole world should be so!” 

That is as sweet and fine a good-night thought 


HOW IT ALL BEGAN 


11 


as I know. And it is growing very late. So I’ll 
finish this letter “to-morning,” as a wee Betty 
used to say. 


’Fore Breakfast, but there are 
crackers and fruit in my room. 

Well, when I arrived at the cove I found my 
new friends waiting on the little landing. The 
old gentleman was carrying a hamper. They 
seemed just a shade embarrassed and the old 
lady said at once, “Oh I I am so sorry we can- 
not take you to the house. But, if you would 
not mind — there is a lovely little evergreen grove 
over there on the point; and here is a hamper 

with goodies” — she said goodies^ Betty, 

“and a vacuum bottle full of cream, and the tea- 
caddy and kettle and all are here, and I’m sure 
we can have a pleasant time, if you’d just as lief. 
You see,” she went on frankly, “my daughter is 
having her sewing club and we forgot all about 
it.” 

“It’s a way we have,” laughed the old gentle- 
man. And we all three chuckled together. 

“Goodies” was the word for the spread, or 
maybe “besties” would be better. Plum tarts 
that the knave of hearts would have been a jack 
not to have stolen I And home-made peppermint 


12 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


candies I And the crispest lettuce and cress sand- 
wiches! And tea! You see, I put the most im- 
portant things first. 

We became friends forever. And here is the 
story you have been bouncing with impatience 
for. 

Captain Candor — just the name for him — and 
his wife came of hard-working fishermen’s fam- 
ilies. Both had many sisters and brothers. And 
all the family of both families were the plain- 
est kind of folks. They didn’t believe in any 
“fancy fixings.” And they did believe in ugly 
things that would wear forever. And time spent 
in reading anything except the necessary school 
books and the sacred books was, they thought, 
lost time. And they never waited for anything, 
but did it at once, whether they needed to or 
not. They were honest and good. But they had 
few pleasures and did not care for more or know 
how to get them out of the world around. 

But Peter Candor and Nancy Dale — that was 
Mrs. Candor in her girlhood, and she must have 
been the bonniest lass ! — were both somehow dif- 
ferent. They liked to watch the pretty lights on 
the water, not to estimate the weather, but be- 
cause they were pretty. They had a collection 
of sweet-sounding sea shells. And they took the 
books of poems out of the Sunday school library 


HOW IT ALL BEGAN 


13 

and read them together. And that is the kind 
they were. 

After they were married they had to work 
terribly hard. The Captain was a fisherman like 
his father before him. And some of his sisters 
and brothers and some of hers lived with them. 
And all the sisters and brothers discouraged any 
fancy fixings, as they had always done. 

The Captain and Mrs. Candor got no encour- 
agement in their dreamings and longings for 
beauty even from their own children — except one, 
they said. There seems to be some sad mystery 
about that one. For they speak of him but lit- 
tle and sorrowfully. 

The other children “took after” the aunts and 
uncles, and the old folks had the old problem 
all over again. They sent their children to schools 
and educated them well. Now, their children are 
all the leading lights of the little village. But 
they still have no use for anything that is not 
serviceable. 

Of late years they all married, except one 
daughter — I don’t know about the mysterious son 
of whom they find it so hard to speak. Now that 
daughter is about to be married. And the sum- 
mer resort crowd has made the Captain’s hold- 
ings — he has lots of property hereabout — very 
valuable ; and his other investments during recent 


H 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


years have turned out well. So they are rich 
and free and are going to have all the lovely 
Violet Dawny things at last. 

But they don’t know where to get them or 
how. 

Brother Robert to the rescue I Oh, we had a 
delicious time planning! 

We’re going to give the sewing club daughter 
the plain old house and we are going to build a 
dream of a little one. I drew the first plans 
that very night for them. 

I told them about you and Mr. Shiver Strings, 
and the Captain said, ‘T can just see her now, 
playing her violin in the sunset in that little neck 
of woods.” 

Wish / could, Betty Beloved! 

Thine, B. B. B. 


Apple Tree Inn, August ist. 
You Wonderful Brother, 

It is so magic! I do so wish I could be with you 
and the Captain and especially precious Mrs. 
Candor. Are any of the children or grandchil- 
dren named Nancy Candor, too? I hope not, un- 
less it’s a nice one who loves everything and not 
only poky, stiff things. 

I know all about it, for there is a very useful- 


HOW IT ALL BEGAN 


15 


minded lady here who asked Mother whether I 
was never going to get too big to weave daisy 
garlands. And Mother said, “I hope she never 
is.” And I tremble to think how I’d have felt 
if she hadn’t. 

Speaking of garlands — I have a most exciting 
news, too. I am not surely sure. But I think 
I’m on the trail of a helpee. Oh! I can scarcely 
hope it will be a marvelous one like yours. I 
keep saying to myself over and over, “Betty, 
please, please don’t be disappointed if it’s a very 
ordinary one.” 

It begins very interestingly — if it has really 
begun at all. 

I asked Joe Silver, the new guide, about the 
people who live here and told him why I wished 
to know. 

And he thought a long, long time. And then 
he smiled a long, long time in silence. And I’m 
afraid that made me bounce dreadfully with im- 
patience. 

But at last he said, “Well — maybe.” 

And I asked, “Oh! What?” 

And he asked me, very slowly, “Do you know 
Primrose Garland?” 

I thought such a lovely, flowery name must 
come out of a book; so I asked, “A person?” 

“Then you don’t know her,” said he. 


i6 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

“Does she need help?” I asked. 

“She says answered Joe Silver. 

Then he said not another word, and I bounced 
and bounced. 

“Please tell me about Primrose Garland,” I 
begged after about a hundred years. 

“Wait until you meet her,” said Joe, and not 
another word. 

Isn’t it maddening? But I dream about Prim- 
rose Garland all the time. Do you think Joe 
Silver could have made her up? He doesn’t look 
as if he could. 

I think I’d better not ask any one else, but wait 
for Joe Silver to let me meet her. The way he 
said it seemed kind of promisy. 

But I can’t wait very much longer. 

Give my love to the Candors and tell them I’d 
play all day for them if I could play beautifully 
enough. 

We all send your love-basket to you. 

Your Betty Bounce, indeed. 


Cape Wild wind, August 3rd. 
Bouncing Bet, 

I read your letter to the Candors and they 
are delighted about Primrose Garland and feel 
sure that she is real. Mrs. Candor says to look 


HOW IT ALL BEGAN 


17 


for her ‘‘on the river’s brim, of course.” For 
Wordsworth has fixed it once for all, the proper 
location of primroses, 

A primrose on the river’s brim 
A yellow primrose was to him, 

And it was nothing more. 

But that would be quite enough for us just now, 
wouldn’t it? Wonder if she yellow? A Yellow 
Primrose and a Brown Betty! 

I went to the plain house where the Candors 
live now, and the sewing club daughter received 
me. She is a good, kindly-looking girl and con- 
descends to “humor” her parents in their follies. 
She has twinges of conscience about accepting 
the plain house and putting them to the trouble 
of building a new one. Trouble, Betty! And 
Mother Candor took the plans to bed with her 
and slept with them under her pillow ! 

The new house, the tiny new wonder-house, is 
to be built of great gray stones, like the boulders 
on the coast, and the roof is to be deep, sage, 
soft green, and the wee porch and the broad 
casement windows are to be trimmed in ivory 
white to match the sands. The house is to be 
but one story high, but at the end nearest the 
water we are to have a little watch-tower of 
stone so that the sun may be watched all around 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


i8 

the horizon, and the moon and all the stars. And 
flower boxes under all the windows and porch 
boxes on the porch ! And a rocky garden of trail- 
ing things and creeping things that are not afraid 
of the salt air. 

And the sewing-club daughter thinks It will be 
a trouble to build It! 

The site crowns a little hill. There’s a grassy 
slope before it and at one side, and beyond that 
all the waters between us and Europe; and back 
of the house and on the other side is the little 
evergreen grove that extends to the point — and 
there wild asters and Indian pipes are to be found 
and many low-bushing wild roses. 

A round grandchild, the daughterlet of “our 
son Richard, the mayor,” accompanied us to- 
day when we examined the lay of the land. A 
rosy youngster, placid beyond belief I She looks 
like a plump Cupid walking In his sleep. And 
that gives me a wonderful idea! 

Oh! I must get it into effect at once. Good- 
bye, Betty dear. Just you wait until my next 
letter! That will have news In It. 

Give my love to Primula Vera If you find her. 
That’s botanical for “Primrose.” But by any 
other name she’d be as sweet. 

Look by the river’s brim. 


Your own, B. B. 


CHAPTER II 


A PRIMROSE BY THE RIVER’s BRIM 

"DETTY sighed a little wistfully as she sealed 
this morning’s letter. 

For she had nothing to tell. Primrose Gar- 
land had not appeared. There was no sign of 
her by the river’s brim or anywhere else. 

Joe Silver, the guide, had not seemed to see 
the wistful glances that Betty could not help giv- 
ing him and she did not dare ask him outright. 
Betty was not at all the type of girl to become 
nagging and insistent. So she sighed — and 
waited. 

She was as happy as could be that Robert had 
found “helpees” for his Kind Adventure; but she 
did yearn for some success to tell him about hers. 

“Now, Elizabeth Anderson,” Betty said to her- 
self severely, “don’t be grumpy. Haven’t you all 
these lovely meadows to play in and hills to climb 
and brooks to wade in and a dog and two cats 
to romp with?” She couldn’t help laughing as 
she said that, for she looked down the porch 
19 


20 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


at the dog and the cats; and they certainly did 
not seem ready for a romp. The cats were very 
lazy and sleepy and slick and had no ambition 
beyond lying in the sun and making their toilets, 
and the poodle could scarcely walk, he was so fat 
and old. 

Although she truly did not want to, Betty soon 
caught herself sighing again. 

“I wish I could go with the grown-ups to meet 
Miss Connie,” she thought. “Everybody is so 
excited about Miss Connie’s coming.” 

Betty was considerably excited about Miss Con- 
nie’s coming herself and had risen especially early 
this morning to hear all that was said about her 
and to see all the preparations. 

Miss Connie was the granddaughter of Mrs. 
Althorpe, a very splendid, severe old lady who 
had been at Apple Tree Inn every summer since 
Betty could remember. Miss Connie herself had 
been there, too, years before, when she was not 
much older than Betty was now. But Betty had 
been so little then that she did not remember. 
Miss Connie had been studying in Europe ever 
since. But she must have been a very nice little 
girl, Betty thought, because everybody remem- 
bered her and loved her. She was not severe 
and splendid at all, as her grandmother was, 
they said, but very gay and lovely. They all 


BY THE RIVER’S BRIM 


21 


called her ‘‘Connie” as if she were a little girl 
still and It seems that she had never forgotten 
to write to the old friends of her girlhood. 

“They’re all as bouncy as I ever get, waiting 
for her,” thought Betty. “Oh I But she must be 
sweet I Why the washwoman cried for joy when 
they told her Miss Connie was coming. H’m! 
No matter who ever cries for joy to see me. It 
will never be a washwoman. I’m so messy with 
my dresses.” 

Soon the wagons drove up to the door and 
everybody crowded into them. Even the people 
who did not know Miss Connie caught the spirit 
of those who did. They were all going to drive 
to Westport to meet her. They had decorated 
the house wagons and the two carriages gaily 
with mountain blue-bells and daisies. 

Betty had been kept busy running for string 
and scissors and pins and ribbon. She was so 
interested that sometimes she felt that she must 
go, too. But at other times she was glad she was 
to stay — for there was always the chance of meet- 
ing Primrose Garland I Besides, the carriages 
were so crowded already that fat Mrs. Althorpe 
really did overflow a little on one side. So Betty 
felt sure that there was no room for anyone 
more, even a little girl. 


22 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

She stood on the carriage block and waved 
them off. 

Just before the last carnage began to move 
Betty’s heart gave a great leap of excitement. 
For Joe Silver, the guide, went to Mrs. Ander- 
son’s side of the carriage and Betty could see that 
he asked her something and that her mother 
smiled. She could not hear what Joe Silver asked, 
but Mrs. Anderson answered very clearly, “Why, 
certainly, she may. That will be very nice.” 

Betty tingled all over, for she felt sure that 
Joe’s plan concerned her and she could not help 
hoping that it had something to do with Prim- 
rose Garland. 

She stood waiting on the carriage block until 
the horses turned the corner of the road, leaving 
only clouds of dust behind them. Joe Silver stood 
on the other side of the road, smiling the slow, 
slow smile that took him longer than it took Betty 
to make a whole speech. 

Then he said, “Well, Miss Betty, it looks like 
they’ve left you and me.” 

And Betty said, “Yes.” 

“What were you planning to do?” asked Joe, 
very gravely, though his eyes twinkled. 

“Why, I haven’t planned anything,” answered 
Betty, her heart beating fast with eagerness. 

“Because,” the old guide went on, “your 


BY THE RIVER’S BRIM 


23 

mother said you might go for a little walk with 
me.” 

Betty opened her eyes wide. Go for a walk 
with him! Why, Betty knew every little walk 
about the hotel as well as Joe did himself, as well 
as any guide in the hills. Joe knew she did not 
need a guide for a little walk, if that were all. So 
she felt very hopeful. 

But she simply said, “Thank you, Joe.” 

Joe Silver saw her excitement, though. Betty 
always said of him, “Joe Silver is very quick for 
such a slow man.” He could see that Betty was 
bouncing inside, for all her patience and polite- 
ness. 

So he put up his finger for silence and said, 
“Sh-h!” and started off, taking long strides. 

Betty jumped down off the carriage block and 
followed him. Her heart was pounding so hard 
that she thought Joe could hear that, but she said 
not a word. 

He led her over the bridge and through the 
lane that winds across the meadow and into the 
leafy, rocky Job Road. This is a steep, high road 
named Job because years ago there was a quarry 
near it and some men who worked there used to 
live on this road to be close to their job. But 
the people in the hotel used to joke about it and 
say that the steep, hard road was called Job 


24 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


because It was such a job to climb it. The grown 
folks seldom climbed this way, but Betty was used 
to it and loved it. 

Up and up and up they went under the arching 
trees, until they crossed a meadow where the first 
little ruined hut stands. 

Then Joe broke the silence. 

“Sit here a while,” said he, “and rest and ad- 
mire the view.” 

Betty certainly was surprised. She began to be 
a little afraid that Joe had taken her out for only 
a walk after all. She tried to keep her mind on 
the view to please Joe. 

At another time this would not have been hard, 
because the view from this high meadow was 
Betty’s “favoritest” view in all the world. The 
mountains seemed to take hands in rings, every 
ring looking over the shoulders of the one in front 
of it and all getting bluer and paler and more 
distant and more lovely. 

But this time Betty could not keep her attention 
upon anything before her; she could only keep 
waiting and hoping for Primrose Garland. But 
she stood on the big rock and tried her best to 
do what Joe had asked her. 

After what seemed to Betty a very long time, 
§he turned to see what Joe was doing. 


BY THE RIVER’S BRIM 


25 

And Joe was gone I He was not in sight any- 
where. 

“Now, I know it’s about to happen,” thought 
Betty; “something must be going to happen 
now.” 

But nothing did. Only Joe Silver came back, 
down the road, and said quietly, “Come on.” 

Betty could not quite restrain her curiosity 
then. She could not quite give up hope, either. 

“Where have you been, Joe?” she asked. 

But Joe only replied, “Up there.” 

“Not up the road, Joe,” said Betty, “for I 
looked and didn’t see you. So you must have gone 
up the ravine, I guess.” 

Joe said, “Ye-es?” and started on again. 

They followed the road up and up, nearly its 
whole length to New Pond, it seemed to Betty. 
She was just making up her mind as to whether 
she dared ask him if they were really only taking 
a walk and not going to see Primrose Garland, 
when she noticed that his shoulders began to make 
little chuckly shakes. So she thought it best to 
wait still longer. 

Soon they came to the lovely Bosky Dell where 
the brook just tears along and the forest comes 
so close and is so tall, and around the stone foun- 
dation of the other little ruined hut a funny lit- 


26 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


tie shaded lawn is stretched, just as if somebody 
had made it. 

Then Joe stopped and looked at Betty gravely 
for a while. She looked up at him gravely, too, 
a-tip-toe with expectation. 

At last he smiled his slow smile and said, 
“Well, now I must be going. Here’s somebody 
to bide with you.” 

Betty looked around eagerly, but could see no 
one. And — of all the surprises ! — he brought 
Mr. Shiver Strings, Betty’s violin, from under his 
coat and handed it to Betty and said “Good-by” 
and started down the mountain. 

Betty thought this very queer. She was so puz- 
zled. But she saw that Joe wanted her to play 
the violin, and she did so, of course, like the agree- 
able little girl she was. She began to draw the 
bow gently across the strings, watching Joe with 
a wondering expression. 

Joe turned around and smiled his long, slow 
smile and stood listening a moment. Then he 
said, “You plucky little sport I” and went on down 
the mountain. 

When Betty told her father about that in the 
evening he said that he was quite sure it was the 
only compliment Joe Silver had ever paid to any- 
one in all his life. 

Betty kept on playing. At first it seemed 


BY THE RIVER’S BRIM 


27 


strange to be playing in the woods alone. But 
soon she liked it very much. She played “Come 
unto these yellow sands,” and that made her think 
of Robert and the Candors. 

Then — a dog barked. Some one said, “Hush, 
Amico!” Betty looked up. 

There, on the other side of the stream, was 
a big, plumy, tan-and-black-and-white collie. He 
regarded her with bright, calm eyes. The bushes 
were rustling. They parted and a girl came 
through. 

She was a tall, slender girl, about thirteen years 
old, in a faded blue gingham dress, and over her 
shoulders were two ropes of the goldenest hair 
that Betty had ever seen. Where a sunbeam fell 
on the top of it it shimmered like a buttercup. 
The girl had large deep blue eyes and the fairy 
kind of face that reminded Betty of the angels 
coming downstairs in a picture in her father’s 
library at home. She was tanned by the sun. She 
was very shy — Betty could see her holding on to 
the bushes as if ready to run away. 

So wise, kind little Betty kept playing and 
smiled at her over Mr. Shiver Strings. 

When she saw that the golden-haired girl did 
not run away, but had let go of the bushes and 
was smiling at her, too, Betty stopped playing 


28 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


and said, “How do you do? lam Elizabeth An- 
derson — Betty.” 

And the other girl replied, “I am Primrose 
Garland.” 

Betty had found her I 



“the CCI.DEN-ITATRED CTRL DTD NOT RUN AWAY, BUT WAS SMILINC” 

— Page 27 



CHAPTER III 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 

T3 ETTY ran forward to the brink of the brook. 

She cried out happily, “Oh I Pm so glad! 
I was just perishing to meet the girl with that 
lovely name.” 

Primrose smiled shyly and said, “Pm glad, too, 
Betty.” 

Then she patted the big dog and added, “This 
is Amico.” 

Betty said, “He is perfectly lovely. Pm sure 
Pm happy to meet Amico, too.” 

Amico waved his plumy tail and seemed to 
know that he was being talked about. 

Primrose came across the stones and Amico 
came right through the stream beside her. They 
all sat down on the “lawn” together. Amico 
kept his calm, bright eyes set on Betty, as if trying 
to make up his mind whether to approve of her 
as a companion for his little mistress. Betty 
smiled at him and Amico came nearer to her and 


29 


30 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


lazily wagged his tail in contentment. Even he 
was won by Betty’s bright, heartsome smile. 

Betty was a little afraid that it was going 
to be hard to talk to Primrose without asking 
ever so many questions. For, of course, she want- 
ed to know all about her; and she knew it was 
in bad taste and rude to be inquisitive about the 
affairs of others. But Primrose knew that Betty 
must be bursting with curiosity, so she told as 
much as she could right away. 

“Joe Silver told me you would come,” Prim- 
rose began. “He has been telling me about you 
for days and days. I didn’t dare meet you at 
first. I was shy. You see, father and I live alone 
’way up the mountain here. And father does 
not wish to see anyone at all except just the few 
country folk that we know well. So I never see 
people, either — and Joe Silver says it has made 
me much too shy. Joe thinks I should have play- 
mates. He is always letting us see that he thinks 
so. I don’t have any playmate at all, except 
Amico.” Primrose placed her hand lovingly on 
the big dog’s head and Amico looked up at her 
devotedly. “Joe said he wanted me to know you. 
I couldn’t say I would until I had a peep at you 
one day through the trees when you were gather- 
ing everlastings on Pennyroyal Peak.” Here 
Betty quite jumped to think that Primrose had 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 


31 


been so near and she had not known it. “Then,” 
Primrose went on, “I was sure I’d love you, Betty, 
and not be shy at all. But Joe was afraid I’d be 
timid when the time came, so he said that he 
would have you come up here and play the violin 
and when I heard it I should come down the ra- 
vine trail and look at you well and see whether 
I wanted to come out of the bushes. And I did, 
the moment I saw you, Betty!” 

“Well,” Betty said, “I’m glad of that. For 
Joe told me about you, too. Only he didn’t give 
me any peeps at you. He wouldn’t even say for 
certain whether you were real or a person out 
of a book. And I was just bouncing all the time. 
My big brother calls me Betty Bounce,” she ex- 
plained, “because I always do bounce when I’m 
terribly curious or impatient. I thought I just 
couldn’t wait another day to meet you. You see, 
there isn’t another girl at the hotel but me.” 

Betty was going to add, “And I was sometimes 
very lonesome,” but she felt that that was hardly 
the right thing to say to a girl who never had 
any playmate but her dog. 

Of course, Betty wondered why Primrose’s 
father did not want to see people and why Prim- 
rose had to stay on the mountain all the time, for 
it was plain to be seen that Primrose was dif- 


32 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

ferent from the other country people round 
about. 

But the only question she asked was, “Don’t 
you have any lessons, Primrose?” 

“Oh I Yes, indeed! Every day — from Father. 
My father knows everything, Betty. He is the 
most wonderful teacher. I never went to school 

except in Philadelphia when I was little ” 

Primrose began and then stopped suddenly and 
blushed as though she had said too much. 

Then Betty and Primrose began to compare 
notes as to what studies they liked and how far 
they had advanced in each. Primrose preferred 
English and history just as Betty did — and that 
was a tie between them. Betty soon shared Prim- 
rose’s opinion of her father as a wonderful 
teacher when she found, to her surprise, that this 
little mountain girl was “miles” ahead of her in 
every subject. 

“Even in mathematics 1” said Betty. “Though 
you say you hate it! But, then,” she went on 
laughingly, “I’m not very fond of it myself.” 

“I truly hate it,” said Primrose with a little 
grimace. “But I have to work hard at it just 
the same, for father thinks mathematics very im- 
portant. I always tell him, though, that as soon 
as I’m of age I’m going to stop counting and not 
count or calculate another thing as long as I live. 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 33 

And if people should cheat me, I’d rather be 
cheated than vexing my soul with numbers.” 

Betty laughed. 

“I think that is a great idea!” she said ap- 
provingly. She was wondering about Primrose’s 
expression, “vexing my soul with numbers.” It 
seemed so grown-up and “booky” for a little girl. 

But Betty soon found out that Primrose used 
many strange “booky” expressions. That was 
because of the books she read. All of Primrose’s 
books were quite grown-up ones — lovely poems, 
most of them. When Primrose told her their 
names, Betty thought they sounded like reading 
off the titles on the top shelf of the poetry book- 
case in her parents’ library at home. How as- 
tonishing it was to meet a little girl who had read 
ever so much Shakespeare and had never read 
Little Women! It was no wonder that Prim- 
rose talked differently. 

However, she seemed like any other little girl 
when they took off their shoes and stockings and 
waded up the dancing little brook, laughing as 
the cold spray sprinkled them. It did this very 
often, as Amico, gaily barking, darted around 
them, waving his wet tail. 

Primrose knew every nook of the brook and 
showed Betty where the big trout took his nap 


34 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


and where the moss was silver and where the 
best wintergreen berries grew and the cresses. 

“I’m interested in the cresses,” said Betty, “I 
like cress very much. We have the finest bunches 
down at our hotel I But they’re almost too pretty 
to eat.” 

“Yes; they are so bright green and large and 
pretty,” said Primrose and laughed. 

“Why — how do you know. Primrose?” 

“I gather them I” 

“Really?” 

“Yes. Our kind Joe Silver takes them down 
to the hotel for me. The hotel people are al- 
ways glad to buy my cresses, although there are 
many right in their own brook; because I know 
where to find the largest and crispest.” 

“Oh! Will you show me. Primrose? And let 
me help? I’d love to.” 

“Surely, if you wish. And I get sassafras root 
and wintergreen, too, and Joe sells them for me 
to a manufacturer in Albany. You may help 
find them, too, if you wish — though it is hard to 
find the sassafras.” 

“I’d just love to. Primrose. May we find them 
together? — Why, Primrose, dear, what is the 
matter?” For suddenly Primrose looked almost 
as if she were going to cry. 

She smiled immediately, though. “Nothing, 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 


35 


Betty. Only it seemed so sweet to have some one 
to be with me. I think I did not know that I was 
lonesome, but I was. Now, we must not stay too 
long in the cold stream. Come; let us rest upon 
this bank.” 

When Primrose said, “Come; let us rest upon 
this bank,” Betty almost pinched her to see if she 
was a real little girl or just a character out of 
some book, after all. 

It made Betty think of Brother Robert and 
the lovely verse he often said, 

“I know a bank where the wild thyme grows.” 

There was no wild thyme on this bank, but love- 
ly deep green lichens, jeweled with spray and 
gilded with sunshine. And at its foot was a tiny, 
splashy whirlpool. 

Primrose said, “Hush! And hear Undine 
laugh!” And when you hushed you could! The 
splash and ripple sounded just like a fountain- 
fairy’s laugh, deep under the water. 

The children listened, silent, except when an 
occasional laugh of their own bubbled forth to 
meet Undine’s. The forest voices, the singing 
birds, the humming insects, the drumming par- 
tridge, the busily munching chipmunk and Mr. 


36 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

Woodpecker hunting his breakfast, all sounded 
in sweet, clear chorus. 

Primrose clutched Betty’s hand and pointed up- 
ward. 

“Look I” she whispered. 

A big, black hawk was circling above them, was 
swooping down Into the trees. 

“I must warn the little birds,” said Primrose. 

And then — Betty said it was “the wonderfullest 
thing” she had ever seen — Primrose put back her 
head and whistled a cry exactly like a frightened 
robin, and all the birds cried out In the same star- 
tled way and fluttered about, calling to one an- 
other to look out — look out. The hawk must 
have seen It was no use, for he screamed and flew 
away. 

Betty fairly squealed for joy. 

“Oh, Primrose! How can you do It? Oh! 
It Is wonderful. Primrose !” 

Primrose was encouraged by Betty’s praise to 
show her all the songs her woodland life had 
taught her. She rippled like the brook and sang 
like the thrush and warbled like the meadow-lark 
and called and “piped and cheeped and twittered” 
and even made a little rustling, puffing noise like 
the breeze In the tree-tops. She chirped and 
trilled until the birds themselves got started and 
made the woods ring with a sweet ecstatic chorus. 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 


37 


‘‘Oh!” cried Betty. “It is the loveliest thing I 
ever heard. Who taught you to sing like the 
birds?” 

“Why, they did. But it isn’t wonderful, Betty. 
It isn’t nearly so hard as learning to play the 
violin, I am sure.” 

“Why, Primrose, I can’t begin to do with Mr. 
Shiver Strings what you can do with your throat. 
It fooled the birds — they nearly sang their heads 
off!” 

“Where did you learn to play — Mr. Shiver 
Strings? Such a funny name!” asked Primrose. 

“I learned at school. Robert made the name. 
I wish you could see my big brother. He’s at 
the seashore now. He named the violin Mr. 
Shiver Strings on account of what I said long ago 
before I learned to play. I was taking piano les- 
sons when I first began to go to school. I was lit- 
tle, you see. I did pretty well — nothing extra. 
And one day, while I was waiting for my lesson, 
one of the big girls was playing the violin. She 
played beautifully, and I had never heard a violin 
before, except in orchestra at the theater. Some- 
thing inside of me seemed to say, ‘You can do 
that, Betty. That’s exactly what you’d love to 
do.’ So I went to the big girl, when she was 
through playing, and asked her to let me hold it 
a little while. I wanted to have it in my hand. 


38 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


And I said, ‘Oh, the dear, quivery, shivery 
strings! I wish I could play you. It hums and 
sings,’ I said. And the teacher heard me — the 
head music teacher of all. And he said, ‘No more 
the piano for you. Miss 1 Shivery Strings is your 
instrument. Go say to your mother that Herr 
Frankie says you are to be a violinist.’ So I went 
home and I said, ‘Mother, dear, I love Shiver 
Strings and Herr Frankie says I am to be a vio- 
linist.’ So then I got my dear fiddle and I’ve had 
him ever since.” 

“Are there many girls in your school?” Prim- 
rose asked with just a little longing in her voice. 

“Lots. Do you want to know about them?” 

Primrose said eagerly that she surely did, she 
wanted to know about everything that Betty did. 

So Betty told her about the big school on Cen- 
tral Park West and her classmates and friends 
and the club that met at Betty’s house on Satur- 
days and the skating in the Park, and Primrose 
made her tell more and more. 

But all of a sudden she began to cry and said, 
“I’m just a wild thing, Betty. You will not care 
for me.” 

Betty hugged her and kissed her and told her 
that she was the prettiest and most interesting 
girl she ever, ever met and that she loved her 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 39 

dearly already. So Primrose kissed her, too, and 
said she was sorry for her “idle tears.” 

Soon Primrose said she had to go to her father 
and Betty said she had better hurry back to the 
hotel or she would be too late for lunch. They 
planned to meet often and often and made happy 
engagements enough to fill at least three long 
summers. 

“Will you promise, Betty, dear,” Primrose 
asked, “not to tell anyone at the hotel about me, 
except your parents? And ask them not to tell 
anyone either? My father doesn’t wish to have 
the hotel guests coming here. He wished me to 
exact that pledge of you.” 

Of course, Betty promised. But when she had 
kissed Primrose for good-bye and started down 
the Job Road with Mr. Shiver Strings, she shook 
her head sadly, wonderingly. 

Why did Primrose have to stay up on the moun- 
tain, winters and summers? Why could no one 
know about her or come to see her? Why was 
she so poor that she gathered and sold roots and 
cresses? 

Betty thought it was all very “puzzly.” 

But — oh! — she was glad she had found her. 
She loved Primrose Garland. 

The wagons had returned when Betty reached 
the hotel. The first person she saw on the porch 


40 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


was a small, dainty, pretty young lady who ran 
up and down talking eagerly to everybody. 

“That must be Miss Connie,” thought Betty. 

As soon as she came near enough to see her 
clearly, “She is lovely,” Betty continued. “I can 
see why everybody was glad she was coming. She 
has the smilingest dimples I ever saw.” And 
that was just what some people thought about 
Betty’s own dimples. 

Betty ran to her mother and whispered joy- 
ously, “It was Primrose! I found her!” and 
Mrs. Anderson gave her a delighted little squeeze 
and said, “Pm so glad, dear!” 

“Where’s father? I must tell him, too.” 

“In a minute, Betty. Come meet Miss Con- 
nie, now.” 

Betty made her curtsy to Miss Connie politely. 
But Miss Connie’s eyes softened prettily and she 
said, “But I want a kiss, Betty. Mayn’t I have 
a kiss?” So Betty gave her a good one. 

“She’s just dear,^^ she said to her mother as 
they went together to find father. “I feel as if I 
had seen her before, but, of course, I can’t really 
remember when I was a baby. I’m sure I’d be 
raving about Miss Connie if she had not come at 
the same time as my darling Primrose Garland.” 

When Betty had climbed on her father’s knee 
and told him all about it, she said, “Now I must 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 41 

find Joe and thank him before I eat my luncheon 
or do another thing.” 

Betty found Joe Silver on the rear porch, by 
the spring box, just putting down the dipper. 

She knew he didn’t like much talking, so she 
just said, “Thank you” to him. But she said it 
with her whole heart. 

“H’m !” said Joe. “Is it any great favor to put 
together what belongs together?” 

Betty answered, “Maybe not.” 

Joe said, “Well, then, don’t thank me.” 

Betty did not know just what to say to that, 
for she did thank him, a billion mountains of 
thanks. So she stood looking at him rather puz- 
zled; and he stood looking soberly at her, until 
his shoulders began to shake and a little chuckle 
came ’way deep in his throat. 

“You’re welcome,” said Joe Silver and went 
into the kitchen. 

After luncheon Betty sat on the porch in her 
favorite sunny corner and wrote her glorious news 
to Robert. She was so happy and had so much to 
tell that she did not know where to begin. She 
said it was her “joyousest” letter. 

“Mother, dear,” she said happily, looking up 
from her lap-desk, “I feel just as I did when I 
cried at the three-ring circus because it was im- 


42 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


possible to see all there was to see, and then 
Brother Bob promised to take me three times and 
let me watch one ring at a time. — But won^ t dear 
old Bobbles be glad!” 


CHAPTER IV 


Neptune’s pageant 

Cape Wildwind, August 6th. 
Happy Sisterling, 

Hurrah for you! We are all so glad you 
have found your Primrose. And by the river’s 
brim, as Mother Candor predicted. Well, by the 
brook^s brim, then. But in the Adirondacks all 
the brooks are rivers — or, at least, I know well 
that all the streams they call rivers are really lit- 
tle brooks. 

A yellow Primrose, too! And such a sweet 
one! Joe Silver is a guide, indeed. Any guide 
can lead you to good fishing and hunting, but 
here’s a guide who led my girl to Happiness. 

If I were you I’d lend Little Women to my 
Primrose. I’m sure she would enjoy turning some 
of Miss Alcott’s flesh-and-blood little lasses loose 
among the poetic heroines she has been filling her 
mind with. Not that they are not charming, too. 

43 


44 the kind adventure 

And — now — let me tell you what we have been 
a-doing. 

When I called little Lucy Candor a Cupid in 
my last letter to you, I saw the glimmering waves 
at the same time; and that reminded me of the 
loveliest of sea fairy-stories and gave me the 
dandiest idea for the Candors. 

The ancient Greeks used to think that Aphro- 
dite, Cupid’s mother, the Goddess of Beauty, 
arose from the foam of the beautiful sea. And 
that is the key to this puzzle. 

I gathered a group of sympathetic souls about 
me, at the hotel, and told them a little bit about 
the Candors and unfolded my plan. They all 
took fire at once with enthusiasm — as you will, 
too, when you hear about it. 

First, by moonlight, that very evening, six of 
the prettiest girls at the hotel arrived outside of 
the Candors’ cottage. They had decorated their 
white dresses with seaweed and those who had 
pearl or coral necklaces wore them, and all swung 
ships’ lanterns — red, green, and white — hung with 
seaweed, too. 

They stood just before the door and called out, 
“Cap’n Candor and Lady, Ahoy I” 

The rest of us watched in the shadow. I wish 
you could have seen the dear old people’s de- 
lighted wonder. 


NEPTUNE’S PAGEANT 


45 


The Captain was quite speechless, but the little 
lady said, “Why, good evening, my dears. How 
sweet you look, to be sure.” 

Then Cousin Kate stepped forward and 
dropped on one knee before them and lifted up 
a great pink-lined shell with a note lying in it. 

We got the shell off of the hotel parlor man- 
tel-piece and had to give the proprietor a thou- 
sand oaths that we would not break it. As if a 
whole seaful were not at his garden gate I 

Mother Candor took the note, all in a flutter. 
We had filled the envelope with sand and tiny 
shells which fell out as she opened it. The letter 
that she read said: 


NEPTUNE 

MONARCH OF THE OCEAN 
COMMANDS YOUR PRESENCE ON THE BEACH 
JUST BELOW THE POINT 
ON AUGUST FIFTH 

IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE SET OF SUN 
TO WITNESS A GREAT SEA PAGEANT 

The girls crowded round the Candors and held 
their lanterns high that the message might be 
read by their light. The Captain read it aloud 
over his lady’s shoulder. A prettier sight never 
was In this world. 


46 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

One by one the girls curtsied and stepped back- 
ward without a word. Then they took hands and 
went away swinging their lanterns and singing 
“Baby’s Boat’s a Silver Moon,” while the Can- 
dors hugged each other in rapture. 

All the next day I kept away from the Can- 
dors’ house, except just for a little while in the 
morning, when we had a meeting with the builder 
of the new home. I never could be “strange and 
mysterious” and I could not keep my anticipation 
of the delight in store from showing, I knew. 
And all yesterday I stayed around the hotel, busy 
with preparations for the pageant. 

Aunt Sadie and Cousin Kate were trumps and 
emptied out everything we needed from their lit- 
tle cottage — including the very tiny Sadie and 
the chubby twins. Of course, you want to know 
what we needed them for. Ah I Just wait and 
see, Miss Bouncer. 

We were all busy every minute, for just as soon 
as we got one splendid scheme completed, some 
very bright person would think of a better one. 

It was a cloudless day, but Aunt Sadie kept 
giving us great jumps of anxiety by going to the 
window and calling out disheartening fears of rain 
before night. 

But how could we have bad weather, with Nep- 
tune himself on our side? 


NEPTUNE’S PAGEANT 


47 


Anyway, it did not rain, but was a spangly 
night. The sort of sunset and moonrise that al- 
ways make me think of Robert Louis Steven- 
son’s gentle expression, “The night fell, lovely in 
the extreme. The heaven was a thing to wonder 
at for stars.” 

All the “audience” went early to the Point and 
waited. Captain and Mrs. Candor went early, 
too, you may be sure. Everybody rose when 
they arrived and conducted them to the big mat- 
ting cushions which we had spread upon the high 
flat rock — the place of honor. 

We had a boatful of stage “properties” and 
supplies hidden behind the Point and more con- 
cealed in the little grove. Everything was ready. 

While the last daylight was yet in the sky, the 
pageant began. 

First you could hear squeals of delight and 
young cries of laughter coming nearer and nearer; 
and two dozen little boys in blue-and-white silk 
bathing tights came splashing around the Point. 
Some were swimming and others were wading in 
water above their knees, along the edge of the 
beach. Many of the little chaps had great conch- 
shell horns to blow upon. They swam about and 
splashed and splattered one another with water. 
Some little fat ones along the edge rolled over 


48 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


and over. Others came up farther on the sand 
and played leap-frog and turned somersaults, 
while those farther out swam little races. They 
were the merriest water-babies Imaginable. 

Suddenly they all screamed. For a larger body 
of older fellows, each with a cap representing a 
dolphin’s head, came chasing the water-babies up 
on the sand. There they made friends and both 
bands together danced a weird dance to the mu- 
sic of mandolins and guitars. 

By that time It was quite dusky and the com- 
mittee went about lighting paper lanterns that 
hung on strings between poles. 

Out of the grove a song arose. Then came, 
like a troop of fairies, a troop of little girls In 
white dresses hung with shells and starfish and 
pieces of net and floating scarfs of white, sea- 
foam green and palest coral pink, each carrying 
In her hand one of the star-like electric sparklers 
that children use at safe Fourth of July parties. 
They tripped along, singing: 

Rarest of pearls, 

Good little girls — 

Prettiest corals their smiling lips — 

Dance like the ocean 
In gracefullest motion, 

While tresses float light as the fairy ships. 


NEPTUNE’S PAGEANT 


49 


Loveliest lasses, 

In Old Neptune’s glasses, 

We see ourselves brighter than his bright star. 
For he has no treasure. 

Can give so much pleasure 
As good little girls, as we trust we are. 

While they were dancing and singing, a line of 
rowboats and canoes came silently around the 
watery “stage” with lanterns to keep it alight; 
though, in fact, the moon was so bright they were 
scarcely needed. 

Then appeared, in the long stream of moon- 
light, all the best swimmers, men and women, in 
the place. The men wore crowns of sharks’ teeth 
— imitation ones — and the young women had their 
hair hanging loose and long strings of bright col- 
ored glass beads tied in it. All the bathing suits 
were covered with seaweed and grasses. They 
had races and dived from an improvised diving 
board and swam in figures like a cotillion. Then 
they joined the dancers and singers on the shore — 
and sneaked quietly off to the bathing houses to 
get dry. 

And then — down the swath of light came The 
Violet Dawn. It was drawn in by the dolphins, 
with long tow-ropes hidden by violets. The Vio- 
let Dawn was piled high with a bank of violets, 


50 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


real ones. In the bow sat wee Sadie as a water- 
elf and on each side was one of the fat twins as 
a Cupid. Mother Candor said, “Oh! The dar- 
lings!” when she saw them and everybody agreed 
with her. Standing in the boat, in his splendid 
jeweled robe of state, very gorgeous with his long 
green hair, his forked scepter and his crown of 
coral and pearl and amber, was great King Nep- 
tune himself. You would never suppose that our 
jolly Uncle Jack could look and act with such 
impressive dignity. 

Neptune sang a rollicking sea-ditty, known to 
the sailors hereabouts, and then, in a loud voice, 
cried out, “Aphrodite, I bid thee rise ! Here are 
thy little Loves. Here is the violet dear to thee, 
high in honor. Here is the fairest of moons. 
And the most beautiful of lovers are the guests 
we have gathered to delight. Queen of Love and 
Beauty, arise!” 

All this time a float had been in the shadow 
behind a dark curtain. The float was towed in 
by swimming water-babies and dolphins. As it 
reached the bright lighted space the curtain was 
dropped to the floor — black-carpeted — of the float 
and a young girl, the beauty of the hotel, rose 
from the floor, first to one knee, then gradually 
to her feet. It looked exactly as if she rose from 
the water. She was clad in Grecian draperies, 


NEPTUNE’S PAGEANT 


51 


snowy white, and as she opened her arms long 
streams of tinsel fell from them like dripping 
water. She wore a crown of violets. 

She and Neptune sang to each other and to 
the Candors and to the audience, the mandolins 
and guitars accompanying them very gently and 
the little fairy girls dancing along the sands soft- 
ly and slowly to the music. It was very charm- 
ing, and Mother Candor and the Captain held 
hands and opened their eyes wide with joy like 
two happy children. 

Then Neptune invited the whole party to a 
mammoth driftwood fire and clam-bake on the 
other side of the Point. The musicians led the 
way toward it. The audience followed and the 
performers hurried back to the hotel and cottages 
to be reclad and get back to the Point as soon as 
possible. 

You know what a beauteous thing a driftwood 
fire is; and maybe something about the joys of 
a clam-bake, too, if my memory serves me well. 
Well, these were the best of their kind. I leave 
your bright imagination to tell you of the jollity 
and fun. 

Captain and Mrs. Candor were the most en- 
raptured people on any coast. They hugged me 
and Aphrodite and Neptune and all the water- 
babies and as many of the others as they could. 


52 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


and took the twins and wee Sadie on their laps and 
cried for joy, and were, all in all, the bulliest re- 
ward that ever came to a surprise party. 

Ah! Naught was lacking but Betty-Dear-My- 
Soul. 

When I said “Good-night” on the Candors’ 
porch. Mother Candor snuggled close and whis- 
pered, “You are like our John, my dear boy.” 
And the Captain, overhearing, said gravely, “So 
I think,” and held out his hand to me. And 
there were tears in their smiling eyes. 

John is the son about whom there is some sad 
mystery. What is it, I wonder? How I wish I 
could make it all “come happy” for them 1 

But I must not sadden this gay letter that has 
made my girl jump and shout for pleasure. 

Good-night to you. Twinkle Toes! 

Your B. B. B. 


CHAPTER V 


MUCH JOY AND A LITTLE TROUBLE 

CROSS the lawn in front of Apple Tree Inn, 



^ Betty’s mother and father were sitting in a 
shady little out-door room built around the roots 
of the big maple tree. Mrs. Anderson was sew- 
ing and Mr. Anderson was reading to her. 

His voice stopped in the middle of a para- 
graph and Mrs. Anderson looked up inquiringly. 
He was smiling and, as her glance followed his, 
she smiled, too. 

“Here comes a streak of lightning,” said Mr. 
Anderson. “Nothing else moves so quickly. 
Does she really fly, do you think?” 

“Bob calls her Twinkle Toes,” Mrs. Ander- 
son replied, “but she moves so fast you can scarce- 
ly see even a twinkle.” 

Betty was darting across the lawn toward them, 
waving a letter over her head. 

“I’ve been with the cart for the mail,” she 
said breathlessly. “This is the only letter for 


53 


54 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


us. It’s mine, from Bob. Oh! It’s the darling- 
est letter! I read it driving home. Please read 
it. Will you read it now, and let the book wait. 
Daddy? Do you mind? For I’m going up to 
Primrose’s — please, mother, may I ? Thank you ! 
— and I want to read it to her when you’ve done 
with it.” 

“Of course. I’ll read it now. Magpie. Sit here 
beside me and try to draw a few quiet breaths 
while I do,” and Mr. Anderson held his little 
daughter close, with one arm, while he read the 
letter aloud. 

But Betty could not keep very quiet while the 
sea pageant was being described, even though she 
had read it all, driving home. 

“Isn’t that lovely?” and, “Isn’t he the dandiest 
brother?” and, “Can’t you just see it. Daddy?” 
and, “O Mother, how cunning Saidee and the 
twins must have looked!” and, “How could Rob- 
ert have had such a glorious idea!” and, “Isn’t 
it perfectly heavenly that we are both having 
such luck with our helpees?” she kept exclaiming. 

Her father and mother were almost as enthusi- 
astic as Betty herself. They were young-hearted 
people and always entered with delight into their 
children’s pleasures. So Betty and her parents 
lived over the Candors’ sea pageant as they read 
Bob’s letter together, so far away in the hills. 


MUCH JOY 


55 


“Mother,’* Betty asked anxiously when her 
father had finished reading the letter, “do you 
think it is all right for me to read Bob’s letter to 
Primrose? She would enjoy hearing it so much! 
But I know you don’t think people ought to read 
other people’s letters to other people — What’s 
the matter?” For Mr. and Mrs. Anderson could 
not help laughing aloud at Betty’s funny sentence. 

“Surely, you may,” Mrs. Anderson answered 
when she could. “I am glad that my little girl 
is careful, for a letter is usually a confidence and 
ought to be respected. But I am sure that Rob- 
ert would be glad to have you share this beautiful 
description with your little friend. Run to her, 
now, my dear. I know you are eager to go; 
and father wishes to finish his chapter, too.” 

So a happy Betty gave her good-bye kisses. 

“I’m going back to the porch first,” she said. 

Little Women and Alice are there. I’m going 
to lend them to Primrose. Good-bye I Good- 
bye I” and she darted away. 

“Bettinka!” her father called. “Slow up a lit- 
tle bit or you will be winded and tired before you 
get up the mountain.” 

Betty tried, but she could not go very slowly 
and her parents smiled as they watched her gath- 
ering the books under her arm and starting off so 
gaily. 


56 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

“Rather strange and romantic — Betty’s golden- 
haired girl in the forest,” said Mr. Anderson. 

“Why, it seems so to Betty,” his wife replied, 
“but I suppose we shall find, after all, that Prim- 
rose is just the child of some queer, poor fel- 
low who likes to live like a hermit. They must 
be safe acquaintances for Betty, or Joe Silver 
would never have taken her there. At least, it 
makes the days much more interesting for Betty. 
I was beginning to fear that she would have 
rather a dull summer. Look! She is almost 
across the meadow already, just vanishing under 
the trees.” 

Betty wished she could really fly, she was so 
eager to tell Primrose about the pageant. She 
hoped Primrose would be on the lookout for her, 
so that she would not have to wait. 

She turned eagerly upward toward the ravine. 
For Primrose had promised to watch from the 
big rock that looked down upon the hotel and, 
if she saw Betty start across the meadow toward 
the Job Road, to hurry down and meet her in 
their ravine. 

But when Betty reached the ravine she saw no- 
body there but a busy woodpecker who stopped 
boring for a minute to look at Betty sideways 
to sec if she were dangerous. He seemed satis- 


MUCH JOY 


57 

fied and turned again to his luncheon. Betty sat 
on a stone to wait. 

She watched the flashing little brook go in and 
out of the flecks of sunshine and the midges hang- 
ing over it in little flickering clouds. She lis- 
tened to a big frog who kept saying, “Gr — ump ! 
Grump I” in a deep bass voice. 

Suddenly the frog stopped croaking and be- 
gan to giggle ! 

“Primrose I You rascal!” Betty cried, and 
Primrose and Amico came from behind a little 
cliff of stones. 

“I had so much trouble to keep Amico from 
running out to greet you,” laughed Primrose, 
“and I had to hold his mouth closed to keep him 
from barking his welcome. I almost spilled the 
blue-berries several times.” 

Primrose had brought a pail of blue-berries, 
bigger and finer than any that Betty had ever 
seen. They divided them, using big leaves for 
plates, and ate them while Betty read aloud her 
wonderful letter. 

Primrose loved the sea party as much as Betty 
had hoped. She clasped her hands with pleasure 
and her eyes fairly glowed. She said it was like 
a beautiful dream come true. 

“O Betty!” she said. “I love to think of the 


58 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

little girls in white, holding sparkling things and 
dancing over the sand in the twilight.” 

“So do I,” said Betty; “I can’t get over them. 
I’m sure I shall be seeing them all the spare think- 
ing time I have. Don’t you love the swimming 
boys and the dolphins, too?” 

“Of course. But, you see, Betty, I cannot im- 
agine that part as well as you can. For I have 
never seen the sea.” 

“Never seen the sea. Primrose!” It seemed 
very strange to Betty, who had learned to swim 
almost as soon as she had learned to walk. She 
opened her eyes so wide that Primrose laughed. 

“No,” said Primrose. “Father says he is sorry. 
He hopes I may see it some day. He says that, 
if I do not, I will have a blind spot in my im- 
agination. I don’t know what he means exactly.” 

“I think I know,” said Betty. “You will un- 
derstand, too, when you have seen it. Primrose.” 

“Do you think it is lovelier than the mountains? 
I do not see how anything can be lovelier.” 

“Oh, no ! Only different. And sometimes 
when you are on the top of a mountain and there 
are clouds all below you, it looks a little like a 
sort of fairy sea. But you will surely see it some 
day and then you’ll love it; I know you will. I’ve 
brought two of my favorite books for you. Prim- 
rose, I hope you will like them. But I’m pretty 


MUCH JOY 


59 


sure you will, because everybody enjoys Alice in 
W onderlandy and I don’t know a single girl who 
isn’t just crazy about Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy.” 

“Jo I Is that a girV s name?” 

“Yes.” 

“Jo I What a dear, funny little name for a 
girl!” 

“Why, Primrose I That’s just what Professor 
Bhaer says in the book. Now, you must read it. 
Jo is my favorite — almost everybody’s. But some 
girls like one of the others better. They are all 
perfectly darling.” 

“Can we not read it now — together? Father 
and I read together often. Last night we read 
The Princess until I had to go to bed.” 

“Well, Jo isn’t a bit Princessy,” laughed Betty. 
“You’ll see. I’d love to read it with you.” 

Then, sitting on the bank of the quiet moun- 
tain stream, the two little girls took turns read- 
ing aloud. They read that lovely first chapter 
that is like opening the door and entering the 
March household, where peace and love and sim- 
ple, daily strivings to do right make us feel our- 
selves to be in such good, friendly company. 

Primrose said that Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy 
were “reader than people.” So they are; but 
they must have seemed still more so to Primrose 


6o 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


after reading about nothing but beautiful prin- 
cesses who speak in poetry all the time. 

“Do you know what I’m thinking?” asked Bet- 
ty as they finished the chapter. 

“No. I’m not a bit good at guessing.” 

“I’m thinking how much dear old Jo would 
have liked you, Primrose!” 

“O Betty, would she?” 

“I just know she would. But she would have 
puzzled you, too. Now, let’s read a chapter of 
Alice, I’m going to leave both the books here 
with you and you can read them alone and I’ll 
dip in anywhere you happen to be when I come. 
For I’ve read them both oceans of times.” 

“Is Alice anything like Little PFomenf^ 

“Oh, no! Not at all. Alice is all fun. Even 
grown-ups think it is funny. And I do want to 
read some of it with you. For father says that 
no book shares as well as Alice does.” 

Then they read Aliceas Adventures and soon the 
glade was ringing with laughter. Amico was so 
astonished at seeing his quiet little mistress shout- 
ing with mirth that he walked over to Primrose 
and looked at her anxiously. That made the lit- 
tle girls laugh still more, of course, and Primrose 
said, “Poor old fellow ! I wish you could under- 
stand it, too. I am sure you would laugh as 
well.” 


MUCH JOY 


6i 


While they were reading a long, low whistle 
came down the ravine from far off up the moun- 
tain. Primrose started to her feet. “That is my 
father calling,’’ she said. “I must go. When will 
you come again, Betty?” 

“Will to-morrow be too soon?” 

“Oh, will you come to-morrow? I’m so glad I 
Good-bye, my dear Betty.” 

Then Primrose’s face clouded sadly and she 
said, “O Betty, dear, I wish I could be really 
your friend.” 

Betty was astonished at that and did not like 
it. She could not keep her tone from sounding a 
little hurt as she said, “Why, Primrose, I thought 
we were already the dearest, dearest friends. I’m 
sure I feel so to you.” 

“Oh! I don’t mean that^ you darling!” said 
Primrose. “I mean I wish I could do my part 
and ask you to come to my house to see me. 
For ” she added sadly in her strange, grown- 

up little way, “it is right to give your friends 
hospitality.” 

Betty saw what she meant, that she would like 
to “make visits” as other little girls did, and she 
felt very sorry for Primrose. 

But some one else had heard and understood, 
too, and a voice cried out from the bushes, “Oh, 
my poor, poor baby!” 


62 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


It was Primrose’s father. 

Thinking that Betty had gone, he had come 
down the glade to meet his little daughter. He 
overheard what Primrose said. Betty could tell 
by his voice, though she did not see him, that 
he felt dreadfully hurt; for he was constantly 
afraid that Primrose was lonely and missed what 
other girls enjoyed. 

Primrose cried out, “O Father, dear! Indeed, 
I am happy I Indeed, indeed, I am!” and it 
sounded to Betty as if it was a thing Primrose 
had to say very often. It came to her lips so 
quickly. 

Primrose ran into the bushes toward her father 
and Amico sprang forward to meet him, too. 

Betty turned homeward quickly and went down 
the road. She felt as if she had done something 
wrong without meaning to and had hurt people 
and couldn’t see how, or help it. 

She was a little bit afraid, too, that she might 
not see Primrose any more. It was too bad to 
have their lovely morning end so uncomfortably. 

Betty cried a little; she could not help it. She 
cried more for Primrose’s sake and for Primrose’s 
father’s than for herself, like the good little Betty 
that she was. She could feel that they were very 
sad about something, though Betty did not know 
just what. But she cried for her own sake a 


MUCH JOY 


63 

little bit, too. It would be too dreadful if her 
good times with Primrose were to be ended. She 
did not think she would dare go up the ravine 
in the morning. 

She was still a little quivery around the mouth 
and misty around the eyes when she reached the 
Inn. She hoped that nobody would ask her why. 
But no one was on the porch but Miss Connie, 
and she did not seem to notice anything unusual. 
She just drew Betty down on the bench beside her 
and put her arms around her and cuddled her 
and showed her a lapful of pretty beads from 
Venice that she was stringing, and told her an 
amusing story about the little Italian girl who 
had sold them to her. It was comforting in Miss 
Connie’s arms and her dimples were so merry 
that they seemed to help to cheer Betty up. 

Then Miss Connie said, “Why, Betty, what a 
shiny, sunburned nose you have!” and powdered 
Betty’s face out of a little silver thing. 

And that was good, for it kept all the people 
in the hall from seeing that Betty’s eyes and 
nose were red from crying. 

Betty’s father and mother had gone for a drive 
and did not come home until evening, just in 
time for dinner. So it was rather a forlorn after- 
noon for Betty, but she gave herself a little shake 


64 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

and made up her mind to hope for the best and 
expect it. 

And in the evening all of her sorrows were 
ended. 

This happened in the twilight, when the “porch 
was full of everybody,” as Betty said. All the 
guests of the hotel were on the porch watching 
the nightfall and moonrise that are so lovely in 
the Adirondacks. Betty was walking up and 
down with her mother and Miss Connie, and Joe 
Silver was sitting far off from the others on the 
steps at the end of the porch. This happened: 
Amico came down the mountain! 

“Look at the beautiful dog!” some one cried 
out. 

Joe Silver stood up and Amico saw him and 
went right to him. Amico had a note in his 
mouth and he gave it to Joe. 

All the people wondered and exclaimed, of 
course. They whistled to Amico and called out, 
“Here, doggie! Here!” 

But Amico just turned his back and waved his 
tail as if to say, “Away with you!” and went up 
the road. 

Then a lot of the people ran to Joe and asked 
inquisitively, “What is it? What is it, Joe? What 
is it?” 

Joe looked at them gravely. Then he smiled 


MUCH JOY 


65 


his long, slow smile and said, “Why, I didn’t say 
anything,” and they all laughed and went back 
and talked about something else. 

Betty wanted to know all over. She was so 
anxious to know that she felt asdf she just must 
find out. But she knew that if it concerned her 
or if Joe wanted to tell her, he would do so with- 
out being asked. So she bravely kept quiet and 
didn’t even look at Joe very much. But she 
squeezed her mother’s hand until it almost hurt 
her. 

Soon Betty was rewarded for her patience. 
When she went up to her room after dinner, there, 
on her pincushion, was the note that Amico had 
brought. 

It was from Primrose’s father. He was not 
cross with Betty at all and he had gotten all over 
being hurt. 

This is what the note said: 

Dear Betty, 

Please do not feel sorry. I knew long ago that 
Primrose ought to have a playmate. I am very 
glad that she has found so sweet a one. 

Won’t you come and have luncheon with us 
to-morrow? Primrose will be waiting for you in 
the glade. Get your parents’ consent. I enclose 


66 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


my card. Give it to them and tell them that it is 
sent in confidence. Cordially, 

Primrose’s Father. 

The card was in a little envelope addressed to 
Mr. Anderson. 

Betty, glowing with delight, ran downstairs and 
out on the porch to find him. 

“O Daddy!” she whispered. “Please come in- 
side a moment. Please!” 

There was no one in the hall, so Mr. Ander- 
son read the letter there under the lamp. Then 
he opened the little envelope and read the card 
and whistled. 

“Is it possible! Is it possible!” he said and 
hurried away to find Mrs. Anderson. 

But Betty ran after him, calling out, “Oh, 
please wait a minute. Daddy! Please say whether 
I may go.” 

Her father smiled. “Forgive me, dear. I for- 
got you were on pins and needles. Certainly you 
may go.” 

It was a happy, happy Betty who went to bed 
that night. She went to bed ahead of time to 
make the morning come sooner. 

As she fell asleep she murmured, “I wish I 
could skip to-night and breakfast and have lunch- 
eon time to-morrow right now.” 


CHAPTER VI 


JOHN CANDOR 

Cape Wildwind, August nth. 

My Excellent Elizabeth, 

Here is a lovely compliment for you. 

Mrs. Candor planned a corner of the teeny, 
weeny guest room in the new cottage to have a 
low window-seat under a broad, sea-gazing win- 
dow. She said, “Let us have that seat quite low, 
for we call that corner ‘Betty’s Bunk’ and look 
forward to seeing her there some day.” Isn’t 
that glory for you? 

They have begun to build the new house and I 
must tell you some of the wonders and delights. 

I think the one that will please you most is 
the nursery. Yes; although all the babies of the 
Candors have grown up and some have babies of 
their own, and though all the grandbabies have 
their own nurseries in their own houses, there’s 
going to be a nursery in the new cottage. It will 
probably be the smallest one ever seen, but a 
67 


68 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


nursery just the same. And it is to have in it all 
the fancy, foolish, pretty toys that the Candors 
never could afford for their own children when 
they were little. Every baby who wishes to, and 
whose parents are wise enough to let him come, 
is to be welcome there at any time. I can plainly 
foresee that there will be a steady stream of 
guests once the youngsters get to understand the 
good times there will be for them at the Can- 
dors’. 

Isn’t that a prize idea? Mother Candor’s, of 
course. I’m up to my eyes in toy dealers’ cata- 
logues, and in the fall the blessed old pair and I 
are going to town to shop for the furnishings; 
and then we’ll buy the prettiest and gayest and 
most ingenious toys known to man. 

There is to be a little rocky, trickling pool in 
the garden, planted with water flowers. Mother 
Candor is going to keep crumbs and seed scat- 
tered on the rocks to attract the birds. Won’t 
that be a pleasant sight? 

I saw that one more room was provided in our 
plans than the Candors had stated purposes for. 
When I asked about it, the dear old lady went 
to the window and looked out and the old gen- 
tleman whispered, “For our John’s child — in 


I was sorry I had asked, though I did want 


JOHN CANDOR 


69 


to know their sorrow and not from curiosity, you 
may be sure. For it seemed as if I might some- 
how help them — to bear, if not to relieve it. 

It was the sewing-club daughter who finally 
told me about it. I met her on the sands yes- 
terday and had a talk with her. She is a good, 
straightforward kind of girl and very frank and 
friendly. She doesn’t see the use of all “the 
queer things” I do for her parents, but is very 
grateful for them since they make her parents 
happy. She thought it rather foolish that I got 
up and went into the woods before day to gather 
Indian pipes in the early dawn before the heat 
of the sun marred their perfection. She said 
she was sure they’d be nearly as lovely and that 
her parents would enjoy them as much if I 
brought them a little later in the day. But she 
became very grave and sweet and sad when I 
told her, “I do it for them because they said that 
John used to.” 

After a little while she said to me, “I think 
you ought to know about John. I will tell you.” 
So she did, looking soberly out to sea. 

John was a sailor who went far off abroad and 
roaming over the earth, not just a fisherman sailor 
like the rest of their “folks.” On one of his 
long voyages his ship was wrecked and he was 
drowned. Some of his shipmates who were saved 


70 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


and landed on the coast of Spain had written to 
John’s parents telling them how brave and splen- 
did he had been. 

Mother and Captain Candor were brave too 
and bore the blow with fortitude — for sailor folk 
and fisher folk are always fortified against sea 
deaths and face them with courage. Indeed, it 
is a badge of honor to them to end their lives on 
the great ocean that they loved. 

But it makes us feel thankful to them — doesn’t 
it, dear? — thankful to the men who gladly go into 
danger on the sea in order that the world’s work 
may be done for us who stay safely at home, and 
thankful to their dear ones who bear their loss 
for our gain. 

Yes, the Candors were able to face John’s 
death bravely; but there is something else that 
worries and saddens them. 

John Candor had a sweet young wife and tiny 
baby in England whom his parents had never 
seen. When they wrote to them after John’s 
death the letters were returned, marked “Not 
Found.” They tried to trace them through the 
little town in England where they had been when 
the last the Candors heard, but they had gone 
away, the neighbors said, to join John at some 
port and they had never heard from them again. 
Neither had the Candors, though they had kept 


JOHN CANDOR 


71 


up the search for years. Several of their sons 
had gone abroad hunting traces of John’s baby but 
had been able to find none at all. 

All the Candors feel sure that John’s wife 
must have died, too, or she would surely have 
written to them. They do not know what has 
become of the baby, the child of their most be- 
loved son, this dear grandchild who is somewhere 
on the earth among strangers. 

The Captain and Mother Candor know so well 
that John would want them to have and love his 
child. So they will not give up hope, though the 
child must be quite grown up by now. They are 
always on the alert for some of John’s old mates, 
hoping that they might be able to throw out some 
clew or to tell them where John had expected 
to meet his little family. 

“It is very dreadful,” said the daughter grave- 
ly. “I used to think it was more so to the others 
than to me — for this all happened long ago when 
I was a little child. But lately I begin to see as 
I never did before that somehow the rest of us 
failed to give to mother and father something 
that they wanted, something that John gave them. 
It was not our fault,” she added proudly. “We 
have all been dutiful. But I begin to see now 
that John’s nature had a side our natures lack, 


72 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


that his going took something out of our parents’ 
lives beyond even the loss of a well-loved son.” 

I never knew until then that I could like the 
sewing-club daughter as well as J do now. 

After a little hesitation she blushed and said, 
“You have it yourself, sir, — the thing John had. 
You have made us all see — at least a little — what 
our parents wanted. We are very grateful to 
you — and will try to remember the lesson you 
have taught us.” 

Then, as if ashamed of having shown so much 
feeling to a stranger, she spoke of some pressing 
household duty and hurried away. 

I have been thinking about John Candor’s 
baby ever since. I believe that the child is alive 
and will be found and will be all the fine things 
the father was. I am certain that it will “all 
end happily” for dear Mother Candor. 

But I can’t help wishing that, with every swish 
of the surf that sounds beneath my window to- 
night, the beautiful, sorrowful song from Shakes- 
peare’s Tempest did not rise to my soul’s ears 
with a new, grim, tender pathos: 

Full fathom deep thy father lies; 

Of his bones are coral made; 

Those are pearls that were his eyes; 

Nothing of him that does fade 


JOHN CANDOR 


73 


But doth suffer a sea-change 
Into something rich and strange. 
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell : 

Burthen: Ding-dong! 
Hark! now I hear them — Ding-dong, bell. 


Now, Miss Clever, if you happen to find any 
deep-sea sailor men on the little river or the not 
much bigger pond, you just ask them if they ever 
went to sea with one John Constant Candor. Oh, 
no ! I cannot treat it as a joke even to cheer up 
this somber letter. The poor, dear old souls ! 

Love them, Bettina. 

Your everest. 

Bobbin. 

That was the letter that Betty received on the 
morning of the happy day when she was going 
up the mountain to have luncheon with Primrose. 

Betty’s bright eyes filled with sympathetic tears 
as she read, but at the end she said, “I feel cer- 
tain that it will be all right. I just know it will. 
It will come out beautifully in some wondrous 
way.” Then Betty chuckled and said to herself, 
‘‘That sounded more like Primrose than like me, 
‘in some wondrous way.’ But it’s going to come 
that way, I just know it is. Oh, wouldn’t it be 


74 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


glorious if Bob could help them find John’s baby? 
I hope he will I” , 

She happened to look down upon the grass 
just then, and right at her feet she found a four- 
leaf clover. 

“I will take it for a happy sign!” she cried 
and wished on it that Mother Candor’s grand- 
child might come home. 

We need not believe in the sign of the lucky 
clover, but this we must believe : That sweet, un- 
selfish, loving wishes have a blessing in them. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE LITTLE HOUSE IN THE WOODS 

T>ETTY was a-tingle with excitement as she 
climbed the mountain to Primrose’s. 

She was going to have a whole long day with 
her charming new friend; she was going to see 
where Primrose lived and be “really friends,” as 
Primrose had said. 

Even in the midst of these happy anticipa- 
tions, Betty found time to enjoy the thought of 
her bunk in the Candors’ cottage. She felt that 
it was very sweet of Mother Candor to think of 
her and it gave her another pleasant reason for 
being eager to see Primrose. She wanted to 
tell Primrose about “Betty’s Bunk.” 

It was a brilliant, beautiful Adirondack morn- 
ing and the sunshine, streaming through the open 
places in the woods, made the white birches shine 
like snow. 

At a turn in the road Primrose and Amico 
were waiting for her. Primrose was as happy 
75 


76 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

as Betty was, and Amico, too, seemed to realize 
that it was a very joyous occasion. 

As they went up the glen together, Betty told 
Primrose about her bunk in the Candors’ new cot- 
tage and said, “If I hadn’t found you. Primrose, 
I’d be perfectly crazy to go there right away and 
see it as soon as it’s built. But now I wouldn’t 
leave here for anything.” 

“O Betty!” Primrose said. “I have a splendid 
idea I Let us find the very prettiest place in all 
the brook and make a lovely resting-place there 
for Mother Candor. We can pretend that she 
is really coming to sit in it. Some day, perhaps, 
she may be here herself. Who knows? And 
then we can show it to her!” 

“Oh! That will be fine. And, anyway, I can 
write to Robert about it and he can tell her. Only 
I think it would be better to make it big enough 
for Captain Candor, too.” 

“Yes; of course we must. And we can name it 
Cove Candor. Shall we search for the fitting 
place now?” 

“Oh, yes!” 

“Come then. We can hunt for the cove and 
build the seat before luncheon if we do not de- 
lay. You go up one side of the brook and I’ll 
go up the other and we’ll find the very prettiest 
nook of all.” 


LITTLE HOUSE IN THE WOODS 77 

The little girls kept climbing up the brook’s 
runway, higher and higher on the slippery rocks. 
Every moment one of them would cry out, “Oh I 
Look I Look! That must be the prettiest!” But 
the very next second the other would see some- 
thing prettier still. 

The little brook seemed to laugh at them, as 
if it knew it was as pretty as could be all the 
way along. The girls laughed too and Amico 
darted back and forth wondering what the game 
was that seemed such fun but proceeded so 
slowly. 

There were shady nooks and sunny nooks and 
moist nooks and high-and-dry nooks and mossy 
nooks and flowery nooks and each seemed love- 
lier than the others. 

“They are all so good, Betty,” said Primrose, 
“that we never can decide. We’d better just take 
the next pretty place we find, or we won’t get the 
seat built this morning.” 

“That is true. Primrose. And then, suppose 
Mother Candor should call upon us this after- 
noon. How embarrassed we should be without 
a seat to offer her!” 

That set them both laughing again, but in the 
midst of their mirth Primrose pointed upward. 
“Look, now, Betty! Look there!” she called. 

Betty gave a little gasp of delight 


78 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

“Oh I That IS surely the best place !” she said. 
“Nothing could possibly be lovelier than that I” 

The little laughing brook had widened out on 
a rocky terrace in its course into a small mirror- 
like pool. Into it danced one little cascade, and 
out of it danced another. The bright sunshine 
came, in a long, golden, slanting scarf, into the 
heart of the pool and on the spray of the dancing 
cascades. The trees and bushes that edged the 
shady forest were reflected in the watery mirror. 
The banks were thickly covered with maiden-hair 
fern and partridge berries and beautiful rainbow- 
tinted lichens. And a true little rainbow rose 
and fell in the waters of the uppermost cascade. 
The breeze kept all the leaves of the trees gently 
waving and flickering between sunshine and shade, 
and a delightful odor of sassafras filled the air. 
Some beautiful yellow birds darted back and forth 
and did not seem to mind the girls’ presence at all. 

“Allow me to introduce you to Cove Candor,” 
said Betty. 

“We can find good rocks for the seat a little 
farther on,” Primrose suggested. “It would not 
do to disturb any of these. Cove Candor is per- 
fect as it is. Besides, I know a place near here 
where there are some dry rocks in the brook’s 
old course — the one it used before it changed its 
mind and came this way.^’ 


LITTLE HOUSE IN THE WOODS 79 

They went where Primrose led and found the 
rocks, smooth, dry, and soft gray-green in color. 
They built a little seat of them and made a back 
for it out of birch twigs woven together and 
tied with grasses, and cushioned their seat with 
balsam. 

“Isn’t that sweet?” Betty cried when it was 
done. “Now the Candors can come at any min- 
ute and we’ll be ready for them.” 

Just then the long, low whistle of Primrose’s 
father came down to them and Primrose answered 
it with one of her sweet bird-calls. 

“Luncheon, Betty!” she said. “Oh, I’m so glad 
you’re coming home with me!” 

“So am I,” said Betty. “I’m as excited as I 
can be about it. But, Primrose, I’m glad for an- 
other reason, too. Fixing Cove Candor has given 
me such an appetite. I’m as hungry as I can be.” 

“Pm famished, too,” laughed Primrose. “So 
come quickly.” 

Betty’s heart was beating so hard with ex- 
citement as they went up the mountain that she 
thought Primrose would hear it. She felt a little 
bit timid, too. She hoped Primrose’s father 
would not be big and gloomy and sad. She hoped 
that he would like her and be pleased to have her 
play with Primrose. 

They turned away from the brook on the far 


8o 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


side, and followed the hiddenest trail that Betty 
had ever seen. It was a real secret trail, just the 
tiniest path through the trees and underbrush 
without even a “blaze” to mark it. They went 
winding and winding through the deep forest. It 
seemed to Betty so like a fairy-tale that she quoted 
to herself, “And they went around and around 
through the forest until they came to a little 
brown house made of gingerbread.” 

And then she cried out, “Oh ! There it isP* 

And Primrose said, “Welcome, Betty!” 

And there, in the middle of a pretty little sunny 
clearing, all ringed round with big trees and high, 
dense underbrush, stood a little brown house, sure 
enough. It was the smallest real house that Betty 
had ever seen. She remembered a doll’s house 
almost as big. She felt certain that Primrose’s 
house was quite the smallest really-truly house in 
the world. 

It was not built of gingerbread, but of moun- 
tain stones and wood with the bark on. It was 
covered with vines, and “a dream of a garden,” 
as Betty said, was all around it. 

It was almost altogether a wild garden, made 
of beautiful flowering plants that Primrose and 
her father had carefully transplanted from the 
woods and fields. But there were also what Betty 
called “tame flowers” — sweet old-fashioned gar- 


LITTLE HOUSE IN THE WOODS 8i 


den favorites from seeds and roots that Joe Silver 
had brought to Primrose. 

In a fenced-in place, back of the garden, rocky 
and sloping upward, were a few mountain goats. 

“Oh I It’s just lovely. Primrose,” Betty ex- 
claimed. 

“I’m glad you think so, my dear,” said a voice 
from the cottage and Primrose’s father came to 
the door, holding out his hand to Betty. 

Betty felt at home with him at once. He wasn’t 
a bit gloomy or terrible. The first thing that 
Betty noticed was that a tame pigeon was perched 
on his shoulder. And nobody could be afraid of 
a man on whose shoulder a little bird felt safe 
and comfortable. 

Mr. Garland was a little, bright-faced man who 
leaned on a cane as he walked. Whenever he 
spoke his face looked very young and happy; but 
Betty soon observed that when he did not see 
that anyone was looking at him it became strange- 
ly sad. Betty thought he looked at such times as 
if he would feel better if he could have a good 
cry. He looked, then, just as she had seen little 
boys look when they had been punished and were 
ashamed, but would not give anybody the satis- 
faction of seeing them cry. 

He was smiling as he came forward to greet 
Betty. 


82 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


“Well, here we are !” he said. “I hope you are 
hungry; for I got the luncheon all by myself to- 
day — my little housekeeper, here, was away — and 
Fm very proud of it.” 

“Yes, indeed, sir. I’m terribly hungry,” Betty 
said. “We have been hauling stones to build a 
seat by the brook and it’s very hungry work.” 

“I should think so, indeed. Come on then, 
lasses. We are having luncheon in the thorn-tree 
room to-day. Primrose and I change our dining- 
room almost every day, Betty,” he explained. 
“We thought you’d like the thorn-tree room.” 

For a moment Betty was greatly surprised and 
puzzled. She did not understand how there could 
be a very great choice of dining-rooms in that 
tiny, little house. But she saw in another min- 
ute what the thorn-tree room was. 

And Betty surely did like it. 

Thorn-tree room was the soft, grassy shadow 
under the boughs of a broad, low-branching thorn- 
tree. It was cool and shady and cosy and very 
beautiful. A most delicious luncheon was spread 
there and they all sat on the ground around it. 

Amico had his plate just a little way off from 
the others. As soon as the pigeon saw it, he flew 
from Mr. Garland’s shoulder and perched on 
Amico’s head. And when the dog’s luncheon was 


LITTLE HOUSE IN THE WOODS 83 

served, the pigeon walked to the other side of 
the plate and ate from it with him. 

“Isn’t that wonderful I” said Betty. “I never 
knew that a dog and a pigeon could be such good 
friends.” 

“You see,” Mr. Garland explained, smiling, 
“Amico is such a gentleman. He was good to the 
pigeon from the start, as soon as he saw that we 
wished him to be so. The pigeon blew in one 
terrible winter night, on the worst blizzard we 
ever saw — and we have some pretty severe storms 
up here in the winter, let me tell you. He literally 
blew in on the blizzard. I opened the window 
just for a moment to air the cottage — we had had 
to keep it shut — and the bird was swept in by 
the wind. We kept it, of course, — and by the time 
spring came, the pigeon was a member of the 
family.” 

“Are the goats members of the family, too?” 

“Yes, indeed, Betty. And very useful mem- 
bers, too. We drink goats’ milk, as the peasants 
do in some parts of Europe. And that bit of 
cheese you are eating was made by Primrose out 
of goats’ milk.” 

“It’s mighty good,” said Betty. “Oh, dear! 
How many things Primrose knows I How did you 
learn to make the cheese. Primrose?” 

“Father taught me. He learned how in Italy 


84 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

long ago. Some other young men laughed at 
him, then, for taking the trouble to learn. But 
now he is very glad that he did.” 

“So am I,” laughed Betty, taking another slice 
of the cheese and spreading it with some tart cur- 
rant jam. 

The luncheon party was so pleasant and Mr. 
Garland was so kind to Betty and seemed to like 
her so well that Betty thought him “a perfect 
dear” and quite forgot that there was any mys- 
tery or queerness. 

The little girls cleared up thorn-tree room 
when the luncheon was over and then Betty saw 
inside of the tiny, delightful house. 

There were but two rooms, a big general room 
and a very little one for Primrose. The first 
thing that Betty noticed was that there was scarce- 
ly any furniture and that the beds were berths, 
built like shelves on the wall. 

Primrose’s bed, in the little room of her own, 
was built so low that she could use it for a seat 
by day. But Mr. Garland’s berth, in the “big” 
living room, was very high up on the wall. It had 
a little private window under the ceiling; and Mr. 
Garland had to climb a ladder to reach it. 

If Mr. Garland’s bed had been lower there 
would have been no room for the books. For, 
except for a rustic table and two chairs and a stool 


LITTLE HOUSE IN THE WOODS 85 

— all made by Mr. Garland out of birch trees — 
and the stove and a birchwood box for the pots 
and dishes, there was not a thing in the room but 
shelves of books. Books and books and books I 
And all that Betty looked at seemed to be very 
wise books that she thought she would be al- 
most afraid to try to read. 

Primrose’s room was very sweet and dainty. 
There were pink and white curtains in the win- 
dow and a snow-white chair and table and a soft 
pink-and-pale-green woven rag carpet. There 
was a little window-seat with pale green cushions, 
and a pink-flowering morning-glory vine peeped in 
the window above it. 

Primrose showed her the tiny clothes closets 
and the little bit of a bathroom, and Betty was 
delighted. 

“It’s so wee and pretty,” she said, “it’s like a 
dream house. Like playing house.” 

Primrose was greatly pleased at Betty’s praise 
of her home, in which she took quite a house- 
wifely pride. 

“Would you like to see the little cellar?” she 
asked. 

Of course, Betty said, “Yes.” 

It was the smallest cellar ever seen; but it was 
as neat as wax, with proper little piles of kindling 


86 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


wood and barrels and bags and shelves of pro- 
visions. 

Betty had begun by pitying Primrose, but when 
she went through this little fairy house she al- 
most envied her instead. 

“I just love your house,” she said to Mr. Gar- 
land. “Pd love to live here.” 

“Do you really think you would be happy 
here?” Mr. Garland asked her, and when Betty 
assured him that she would, he added, “Well, you 
are a blessed little comfort to say so.” And he 
stooped and kissed her. 

Betty was glad she had said it, because she 
could see that Mr. Garland had been worried to 
think of Primrose’s having to live ’way up the 
mountain in the little house, and that he felt better 
to know that another little girl would have liked it. 

“Now,” said he, “I must be off. I have to go 
back to business, now.” 

Going to business I Betty was astonished — 
she couldn’t imagine what kind of business Mr. 
Garland could have, away off there in the moun- 
tains. 

She said nothing, but she could not help look- 
ing amazed. 

Mr. Garland saw her expression and laughed. 
He was pleased to see a little girl who could 
control her curiosity and not ask inquisitive ques- 


LITTLE HOUSE IN THE WOODS 87 

tions. He said, “Come along, you two! We’ll 
show Betty the factory. Primrose.” 

The factory! Whatever did he mean? 

He led the way into the woods to another little 
house in another little clearing. This house was 
of stone with a slanting glass roof, like the roof of 
a lean-to. Inside of it were all sorts of things 
that artists use; Betty saw paints and palettes and 
easels and a lay-figure and draperies. 

There were a number of pictures, too. Some 
were paintings of the mountains and the woods, 
so perfect that they seemed just windows to the 
out-doors and not pictures at all. But most of 
them looked like the covers of books or the ad- 
vertisements you see in the street-cars. 

In the best light was a large canvas not quite 
finished. Betty gave a little shout of delight and 
then stood silent with admiration before it. 
Even though it was not completed, it was the 
most beautiful picture that Betty had ever seen. 
It was a portrait of Primrose, with Amico. 

It was just like her, with that same sweet 
wonder in her eyes that had made Betty love 
Primrose the minute she saw her. The faded 
blue gingham dress was just as faded in the pic- 
ture — perhaps a little more so. The Primrose 
in the picture was listening — you could tell that 
at a glance — and her mouth looked as if, in just 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


a minute, she would chirp or whistle. She was 
standing on a little knoll with bright blue sky and 
white clouds behind her, and she and Amico were 
right in the middle of a clump of bluebells about 
the color of Primrose’s eyes. 

“I call that picture True said Mr. Gar- 

land, putting his hand proudly on his little 
daughter’s shoulder. “What would you call it, 
Betty?” 

“I call it darling*^ said Betty, running up to 
Primrose and giving her a kiss. 

On the wooden stand that held the painting a 
tiny picture was tacked. It was a miniature of 
a very pretty lady and Betty felt sure that it 
was Primrose’s mother, for Primrose looked so 
much like it. Betty thought that Mr. Garland 
had put the little picture there so that he could 
try to make the picture of Primrose as much as 
possible as her mother had looked. She took 
Mr. Garland’s hand and gave it a little sym- 
pathetic squeeze and talked about the other pic- 
tures. 

“And what do they look like?” asked the 
artist. 

“Advertisements?” Betty ventured timidly. 

“Right. I make them and send them, through 
Joe Silver, to an agent in New York. That is 
this factory’s business.” Mr. Garland did not 


LITTLE HOUSE IN THE WOODS 89 


look very happy about it and said quickly, “But 
these other pictures and the one of Primrose are 
love paintings. These landscapes are just little 
loves and may, perhaps, be sold some day. But 
True Blue, here, is a big love painting and is 
never, never to be sold.” 

After a while Betty and Primrose and Amico 
ran out to play in the garden and left him to 
his work. Primrose got out her little gardening 
tools and she and Betty trimmed and clipped and 
dug and spruced up the little garden busily until 
everything was done and the narrow paths were 
swept clean and it was time for Betty to go home. 

“I shall write to Robert,” she said, “and tell 
him all I can tell of this lovely day.” 

“Don’t forget to tell Mother Candor about 
Cove Candor,” said Primrose. 

“Indeed I won’t forget. I’ll say that it is all 
ready and that they should come right away.” 

“And give Mother Candor this bluebell out 
of the garden. Put it in the letter — bluebells 
press so well I We call this one the Splendid 
Giant. Father and Joe Silver say that they never 
saw such a big one or such a bright one.” 

“Oh, thank you; Mother Candor will be glad, 
I know,” said Betty. And she added to her- 
self, “Pm going to tell Bob it’s the very color 
of Primrose’s eyes. I learned that from the 


90 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


painting, and I’m sure it’s worth telling the Can- 
dors, since they love to know about pretty things.” 

Betty was so happy when she got home and 
had so much to tell her mother about her won- 
derful day that she quite forgot there was any- 
thing secret and troublesome about the Garlands. 
But that very evening she was strangely reminded 
of the uncomfortable mystery. 

A queer thing happened. 

Miss Connie had invited Betty into her room 
to help make fudge on her chafing dish. While 
the fudge was cooling she let Betty look through 
her box of gorgeous scarfs /and sashes. Miss 
Connie had traveled, almost all around the world, 
it seemed to Betty. She had a scarf or sash from 
every country and she could tell the most de- 
lightful stories about the places in which she 
found them and the people who sold or gave 
them to her. 

“Just pick out any one that interests you and 
I’ll tell you about it,” said Miss Connie. 

Story-loving Betty was having a pleasant time, 
you may believe. She had learned about a bril- 
liant piece of red embroidery from Bulgaria and 
was in the midst of the history of a piece of 
lovely peach-blow silk from France, when she 
chanced to look at the clock on Miss Connie’s 
table to see how near bed-time it was. 


LITTLE HOUSE IN THE WOODS 91 

And right near the clock, on Miss Connie’s 
table, was a picture of Primrose Garland’s 
mother I 

L: was in a little gold frame, exactly like the 
one up the mountain. 

Betty said afterward that she nearly burst with 
excitement. 

She was a good loyal little confidante, who 
could keep a secret, and she remembered that she 
must not speak of Primrose or her father to any 
one in the hotel. So she kept silence, although 
she did so long to ask Miss Connie about the 
picture. 

Betty scarcely heard the end of the story of 
the peach-blow scarf and she did not even enjoy 
the fudge as much as usual. She was so anxious 
to go to her mother and to tell her of the two 
miniatures. 

When she had thanked Miss Connie and bade 
her good-night, Betty ran to her mother’s room 
and told her breathlessly about her strange dis- 
covery. 

“Isn’t it just like a story?” she cried. “Of 
course, I didn’t tell. Mother. Of course, I 
wouldn^t. Though I should think anybody could 
tell any secret to dear Miss Connie.” 

“You were very right not to tell,” said Mrs. 
Anderson, “and I’m sure it must have been hard. 


92 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


Now go to sleep and try to forget all these 
vexatious questions. And, Betty dear, if I were 
you, I would say nothing to Primrose or her 
father about Miss Connie’s having a miniature, 
either. I think it might simply disturb them.” 

Betty promised to be careful, but she sighed. 

“It’s a great nuisance not to be old enough to 
be told things,” she thought. “What can it all 
be about?” Then she shook her head and ban- 
ished all unhappy thoughts. “Well, anyway,” 
she said sleepily, “I’ve had a simply perfect day, 
and I hope I shall dream about it.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


A LETTER AND A LULLABY 

T> ETTY Opened her eyes sleepily on a beauti- 
ful, pale-yellow morning. 

A voice outside her window was yodeling to 
her, giving that quaint mountain call that the wise 
Germans found long ago to be a sound that be- 
longs to the hills. 

Betty leaped to her feet, wide awake in a min- 
ute, threw on her little pink eiderdown wrapper 
— for early Adirondack mornings are cool — and 
ran to the window. 

“Yes, Dad!” she called out. And, “How 
early you are up!” she added. 

“Yes. Pm going to tramp to Elizabethtown 
before the sun is high. There was a little rain 
in the night and the roads are not dusty and 
everything smells so sweet and good. Want to 
come with me?” 

“Oh, yes, indeed! Will you wait for me? I 
won’t take a minute.” 


93 


94 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


“Righto! Hurry up, then, and we can have 
breakfast together.” 

Betty dressed as quickly as she could. She 
loved to go tramping with her father, because he 
had keen eyes for all the pretty and interesting 
things along the way that other people overlooked. 

He pointed out the humming-birds in a cot- 
tage garden and the pinky tip of a high moun- 
tain cloud and the good huckleberries all but 
hidden among other bushes and many other joys 
that are too small to be seen by an ordinary ob- 
server but go so far toward making a country 
walk delightful. And he never minded waiting, 
as some grown folks would have done, when 
Betty just had to stop to admire a particularly 
pleasing view or gather a bunch of “everlasting” 
that seemed bigger and finer than usual. 

Everybody knew him, too, and all the country 
people they met along the road or in their gar- 
dens stopped him and told him interesting bits 
of news, and some of them gave Betty big apples 
or cookies and milk or a few old-fashioned 
flowers. 

They met the country postman in his little jog- 
ging cart going from post-office to post-office, 
and he knew Mr. Anderson, too, and said, “I 
think I left something at the New Petersburg 
office for you, sir.” 


A LETTER AND A LULLABY 9^ 

So they went eagerly on to the little post-office 
— which was only a little corner of a little sitting- 
room of a little white farm-house. There the 
post-master, who was just the farmer except at 
mail times, let down his horn glasses very care- 
fully and looked at them. He let down his 
glasses because he wore them on the top of his 
head when he wasn’t using them. Then he 
fumbled through his little pile of letters, saying 
over and over, “Anderson — Anderson — Ander- 
son” in a surprised, studious tone, as if he had 
never heard a name like that before and was 
afraid he might forget it before he came to their 
letters. Betty had to try hard not to laugh at 
him and she could see her father’s eyes twinkling a 
little, too. 

“Ah I Here it is !” the postmaster said at last, 
with a great sigh of relief, “Mm Elizabeth An- 
derson, Apple Tree InnT 

So the letter was for Betty herself, and not for 
Mr. Anderson after all. It was from Robert. 

Betty read the letter aloud as they walked on 
slowly. At least, they began by walking on 
slowly as Betty read, but she tripped over so 
many little stones in the rocky road that Mr. 
Anderson laughed and said, “I’m afraid you will 
bruise your little nose, Betty. Let us stop on 


96 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

this little bridge and read the letter together/’ 
So they leaned against the railing and read: 

Cape Wildwind, Aug. i6th. 
Dear Betty-in-a-Fairy-tale, 

Mother Candor loves her bluebell and I can 
tell you a very pretty fact about it. It is not 
only the color of Primrose’s eyes; it is just the 
exact color of Mother Candor’s eyes, tool I 
pointed out the similarity to Captain Candor and 
his own eyes opened wide in wondering apprecia- 
tion and he said, “Well, well! And I always 
thought her eyes were like the sea and nothing 
but the sea — except for the blue of the sky re- 
flected in it. Well, well! Who would have 
thought that this bit of mountain flower and the 
big ocean had this much in common ! And 
Mother Candor’s eyes, too! Well, I dare say 
all beautiful things are alike in one way or an- 
other, if we could only see it. That is why all 
sorts of folks have the love of true and fine and 
lovely things somewhere in their hearts, however 
they have lived and wherever. Some please some 
and others please others. But there’s just one 
Great Beauty after all. Just one Spirit of 
Beauty.” You may not understand all that Cap- 
tain Candor meant, little Betty mine; but if you 
read it over and try to remember what he said. 


A LETTER AND A LULLABY 97 

I’m sure there will come a time when you will 
understand and be glad. 

We are so busy with the new house that we 
have neither time nor thought for much else, 
these days. I never saw plans for a house made 
so quickly or a house being built in such a quick, 
smooth way without delays. You see, the Can- 
dors are so perfectly agreed that they do not 
have to stop to discuss anything. And all the 
workmen around here are their friends and are 
as eager to have the house built soon and well as 
they are themselves. 

When they have finished digging the cellar and 
making the foundations, we are going to start 
the garden. All the Candor grandchildren are 
going to help. The sewing-club daughter asked 
their parents for permission and they said the 
little gardeners might dig to their hearts’ con- 
tent. Mother Candor and I are to give instruc- 
tions and Captain Candor is to see that they are 
carried out to the letter. For I fear that some 
of the grandchildren would make round beds full 
of “railroad lilies” — as Mother Candor calls 
cannas, because they always have them at rail- 
road stations — and stick up straight shrubs all 
alone here and there in the grass and put to- 
gether colors that hate one another, unless we 


98 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

make them cling close to the pretty plan we have 
decided upon. For, how says the poet? — 

Different men have different opinions; 

Some likes apples and some likes inions. 

We all have the same opinion about your sweet 
Primrose and about Miss Connie, too. Miss 
Connie has gone to the Candors’ hearts like a 
needle to a magnet. They call her “sweet Con- 
nie” and say that she must be a perfect darling. 
Therefore you are to tell us more about her. 

It is mighty fine of you. Sister Busy B., to re- 
frain from asking about all the mysteries that 
are making your kindly little heart fairly burst 
with curiosity. That is a great thing to have 
and one that few little lasses your age — and few 
bigger ones either — have achieved, honey. I 
mean the delicacy to wait, no matter how deep 
your kindly interest may be, until folks choose 
to tell you their affairs, instead of asking or 
forcing confidences. 

But, never mind, you shall know soon. For 
I am sure that every one must feel your sweet 
sympathy and reward it with confidence, as far 
as may be. So put a stone in each pocket of your 
pinafore to keep from bouncing quite off the 
mountain-tops. 


A LETTER AND A LULLABY 99 

I must go now to look at the weather, for 
the sea is crawling surlily, not at all like the merry 
comrade it has been all this time. And the sky 
is about the color of a slippery, slimy pavement 
after a rain in the city; and the King of the 
Winds is blowing from puffed cheeks little hot, 
angry gusts of temper and fret. There is going 
to be “weather,” as the folks around here say 
of a storm. And I love to see it come up — al- 
ways provided the little ships are under cover. 

Here’s my love on the gale, my lass, 

Bobbert. 

“Think of their having stormy weather there. 
Father,” said Betty, “when it has been so clear 
and lovely here. But Bob always loves a good 
storm. So that’s all right.” 

“It’s a pretty bad coast for storms, however,” 
said Mr. Anderson gravely. “Robert is quite 
right to hope that the little boats are in harbor.” 

As they entered Elizabethtown, Mr. Anderson 
looked down at Betty and smiled. 

“Wait a minute,” he said, and stopped under 
a big elm-tree at the turn of one of the quiet, 
shady country streets. “I must tell you now what 
I came to Bettytown for.” 

Betty laughed when he said “Bettytown” for 
Elizabethtown, for the family always teased 


lOO 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


Betty because when she was a tiny girl she used 
to think that the pretty little village was named 
after her. 

“I came to get something for Primrose Gar- 
land. Something that she needs.” 

“Why, Daddy I For Primrose? What? 
What? Oh, please tell me I” 

“But it depends upon you. Miss, whether I buy 
it or not. For you have to have one, too, if I 
do.” 

“Oh, whaty Daddy dear? What?” 

“Betty, are you entirely too big to play with 
dolls?” 

“Oh! It’s a doll! Of course I’m not, you 
dear! I shall never be too big to like them; I 
know I shan’t. Only I am too big to travel with 
them now. So I didn’t bring any. I should 
just love to have one and I’m sure that Prim- 
rose would, too. I think a doll would be good 
company winter nights for Primrose, and I don’t 
believe Mr. Garland ever thought about get- 
ting one.” 

The dolls in the little toy store all stood up 
straight in boxes without covers ; Betty could look 
them over easily by just walking along. She 
picked out a brown-eyed one for Primrose and 
a blue-eyed one for herself. 

“For, it’s funny. Father,” she said, “but girls 


A LETTER AND A LULLABY loi 


almost always prefer the kind of eyes they 
haven^ 

“All little girls’ eyes are pretty,” said her 
father, “when they are kind and merry.” And 
he thought proudly that there were none in the 
world kinder or merrier than his own little 
daughter’s. 

Primrose’s doll had on a pink frock and 
Betty’s was dressed in blue. 

“You see,” Betty explained on the homeward 
journey, “Primrose’s little room is pink and this 
dolly will look just sweet there.” 

When they reached the hotel a little before 
luncheon and Betty had kissed and thanked him, 
Mr. Anderson said teasingly, “I suppose you are 
too tired to climb up to see Primrose this after- 
noon.” But his eyes twinkled as he said it. 

“I should say Pm not!” answered Betty. “As 
if I could possibly wait until to-morrow to bring 
the dolls.” 

When Betty had climbed the mountain and ap- 
proached Primrose’s house, she heard little 
splashes and sounds of laughter in the brook and 
followed them. Primrose and Amico were 
wading in the clear, deep water. 

“This way, Betty!” cried Primrose as she heard 
Betty calling to her. “Take off your shoes and 


102 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


stockings and come in with us. There are many 
little cascades here and it is very pleasant.” 

Betty decided to say nothing about the new 
dolls just then, but to surprise Primrose with 
them when the wading was over. So she sat 
the two dollies up together behind a big rock and 
went to the brookside, chuckling to herself at 
the thought of Primrose’s coming pleasure. 

It certainly did look pleasant in the little brown 
brook with its flashing water and it didn’t take 
Betty long to get in it. 

“Oh, come up here. Primrose!” she called 
out. “This is the slipperiest, slopiest, rockiest 
place of all. Wading here will be the most ex- 
citing!” 

“All right. But look out, Betty. The rocks 
are soapstone and the wet moss is very uncer- 
tain.” 

It was indeed hard to keep standing, with little 
waterfalls all over your feet and the rocks and 
wet moss like glass beneath them. But the ad- 
venturous little girls went on and on, balancing 
themselves with outstretched arms, and laughing 
at their narrow escapes. 

“Don’t you envy Amico?” asked Primrose. 
“He hasn’t the least trouble. See how firmly 
he stands on that slippy spot we didn’t dare try!” 

“Oh, yes! But he has four feet, you §ee, and 


A LETTER AND A LULLABY 103 


we have only two. That reminds me of a funny 
thing my little cousin said,” said Betty. “We 
knew a little dog who had been run over by a 
trolley-car and had only three legs. And I asked 
little Saidee if she didn’t feel sorry for the poor 
doggie and she said, ‘Ye-es, Cousin Betty — ^but he 
ought to be all right with three legs. ’Cause I’m 
all right with only two.’ ” 

When the laughter at wee Saidee’s comment 
had subsided, “Look, Betty!” said Primrose. 
“There is the Water Sprite’s Stairway!” 

“Oh-h! Isn’t it lovely! I think I’ll walk up 
it.” 

“Careful!” Primrose warned. 

Betty walked safely up a little natural stair- 
way in the middle of the brook. This was not 
easy to do, because the rocky stairway was well 
carpeted with smooth, long, grassy moss bent 
downward by the hurrying water. Betty was 
quite proud of herself when she reached the 
top in safety. Then, growing bolder, she turned 
around and tried to walk downstairs. 

Her feet flew out from under her and she sat 
down very suddenly and slid down the Water 
Sprite’s Stairway and settled in a little basin at 
the foot of the stairs, where the water came pour- 
ing down her neck and all over her. 

Betty wasn’t a bit hurt, and she laughed so 


104 the kind adventure 

hard that she couldn’t get up. Primrose hurried 
to help her, and she laughed, too, so that she 
didn’t look where she was going and she fell on 
her knees right beside Betty. 

When they got out of the brook, they were 
both sopping wet. But the day was warm and 
they were very near Primrose’s house. 

There they put on dry clothes and hung their 
wet ones out to dry. Betty looked very funny in 
Primrose’s dress, which was too long for her 
and not wide enough to button in the back. 

“Do you think my clothes will dry before go- 
ing-home time?” she asked with some anxiety. 

“Oh, yes ! The sun is warm and the breeze is 
brisk and I’ve wrung them out as dry as I could.” 

“I should think you had! There’s a regular 
pool there.” 

“Yes. And it’s right by that rabbit hole. 
Won’t Mr. Bunny be surprised when he comes 
home and finds a little lake in his front yard?” 

“A pool by a rabbit hole! O Primrose, let’s 
play Alice and have a caucus race!” 

The caucus race was a great success. Amico 
and the pigeon played it, too, and that made it 
seem “truly true,” Betty said, and exactly like 
the caucus race in Alice, 

She did not find it surprising that Amico ran 
around the pool in a circle, behind the little girls, 


A LETTER AND A LULLABY 105 

when Primrose told him to do so. For he al- 
ways obeyed every single thing Primrose told 
him to do and sometimes did what Primrose 
wished even before she bade him. Primrose said, 
“Amico has a wondrous wit,” and Betty replied 
heartily, “He surely has.” 

But the girls laughed until their sides ached 
to see the pigeon caucusing with them. He 
fluttered and hurried and was too funny for words. 

In the midst of their mirth. Primrose’s father 
came down the trail. He saw the caucus race 
and knew at once that they were playing Alice. 
He stopped and gathered two ripe thimble-berries 
and then came forward, leaning on his stick, and 
offered them to the little girls, saying politely, 
“Allow me to make you a present of these beauti- 
ful thimbles I” 

Betty thought that he was a dear father and 
the thought came to her again that she did so 
wish he could be happy and not so secret and 
strange. 

They told him about their adventure in the 
brook and Mr. Garland said that they would 
have to rechristen the Water Sprite’s Stairway 
and name it “Betty Falls.” 

Suddenly Betty stopped short in the game and 
cried out, “Weill I’ve forgotten our children! 
How could I?” 


io6 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


Primrose realized, of course, that Betty was 
starting some new game and waited to see what 
she would do next. 

“I left them down behind a rock near the 
brook,” said Betty. ‘T do hope they have been 
good and haven’t run away.” 

She led the way to the rocky seat where the 
dolls were patiently waiting. 

“There they are; as good as gold!” she said. 
“This is your child. Primrose, and this is mine. 
My father sent them.” 

Primrose was delighted. She was so surprised 
and happy that she could not speak at first. She 
just hugged her doll and cuddled it. At last she 
said, “Oh! I do thank your father, Betty. Pm 
so glad to have this beautiful doll. I had one 
once, but Amico broke her — that was when Amico 
was only a pup,” she hastened to explain, anxious 
to excuse her favorite. 

“Let’s name our dolls,” suggested Betty. 
“What name do you choose?” 

“Why, I’m going to name mine Elizabeth, of 
course, and call her Betty for short.” 

“Thank you for the compliment, Primrose. 
And, of course, my child is named Primrose.” 

The afternoon that began with such an excit- 
ing game ended very quietly, as the little girls 


A LETTER AND A LULLABY 107 

sat under the thorn-tree and dressed and played 
with their dolls. 

“I’m going to leave my Primrose up here with 
her godmother,” said Betty. “And now my 
clothes are dry and it is getting late. So let us 
put our children to bed.” 

They took the dolls into the cottage and laid 
them on Primrose’s window seat and covered 
them with a shawl. 

“Shall I sing them to sleep?” asked Primrose 
shyly. 

“Oh, pray do!” 

“I’m going to sing a song that proves I love 
you,” said Primrose. “I would not let any one 
I did not love dearly hear this song. For my 
dear mother made it for me when I was little. 
It is one of the few things I remember about her 
and it is one of my most sacred possessions.” 

Betty patted Primrose’s hand, and Primrose 
sang in her wonderful, clear sweet voice : 

Baby shall swing 
In the golden ring 

Of the moon, of the bright young moon; 
Shall rock to and fro 
In the cool, cloudy glow 

Of the moon, of the cradling moon. 

Croon — Croon — Croon! 


io8 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


Baby shall sleep 
On the billowy deep 

Of a cloud, of a big, soft cloud; 

Baby shall dream 

Where the sleepy stars gleam 

In a crowd, in a blinky crowd. 

Speak — not — loud! 

Mother’s arm is the ring 
Where Baby shall swing 

In the light of the bright young moon; 
And this pillow shall be 
Baby’s billowy sea 

And the cloud where the dreams come soon. 
Croon — Croon — Croon I 


The music of the little song was so sweet and 
haunting that it kept in Betty’s mind and she 
hummed it over gently to herself all the way 
home. She ceased singing it as she reached the 
hotel, of course, because she knew that Primrose 
would not wish any one to hear it. 

But as she went into her room to dress for 
dinner, imagine her surprise ! Miss Connie’s 
door was open and she could see Miss Connie 
sitting by the window in a big wicker-chair and 
bending over a bit of embroidery; and she could 
hear Miss Connie singing very softly as she 
sewed: 


A LETl'ER AND A LULLABY 109 


Mother’s arm is the ring 
Where Baby shall swing 

In the light of the bright young moon; 
And this pillow shall be 
Baby’s billowy sea 

And the cloud where the dreams come soon. 

Croon — Croon — Croon! 

Betty gasped with astonishment. How did 
Miss Connie ever learn Primrose Garland’s 
mother’s song? 

It was so queer! 

Betty said, “I give it up I” just as if it were 
a riddle she could not guess. She shook her head 
and shrugged her shoulders. “I’m certainly 
puzzled up,” she sighed. 

Mrs. Anderson came into Betty’s room and 
what she said made Betty forget all the mystery 
for a time. 

“Father has just received the newspapers, 
Betty. They’ve been having terrible storms at 
Cape Wildwind.” 

“Bob said in my letter that he thought a storm 
was coming. I hope he hasn’t been blown to 
pieces. But Bob loves blowy, stormy, wild 
weather.” 

“Not so stormy as this, I think, my dear! A 
schooner was entirely destroyed off Cape Wild- 
wind. It must have been very dreadful.” 


no 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


“O dear! Were any people killed, Mother?” 

“I believe not. Thanks be, there are no re- 
ports of any lives lost.” 

“Well, I’m very glad it wasn’t serious.” 

“Not serious? When a ship was wrecked?” 
Mrs. Anderson couldn’t help smiling. 

“Well, Mother, I am so glad that no people 
were hurt that I cannot think any thoughts about 
it but glad ones.” 

“Perhaps you are right, my little optimist. We 
shall probably have a letter from Robert very 
soon, telling us all about it. Now dress for din- 
ner, dear. It is late.” 

“I hope Bob’s letter will be to said Betty. 
“I know it will be thrilling.” 


CHAPTER IX 


THE STORM 

O OBERT’S next letter was addressed to Betty, 
just as she had hoped, and you will agree 
that she was right when she had said that she 
knew it would be thrilling: 

Cape Wildwind, Aug. i8th. 
Betty High-and-Dry, 

WeVe been having “weather,” Captain Can- 
dor says. And I think we have been having in 
one day all the stormy weather there is in the 
world. I forgot there were mild, pleasant moun- 
tain places and thought the whole world was 
made of angry wind and furious water. 

We have been having adventures, too. And 
Captain Candor has shown himself a hero and 

All right I All right ! Stop bouncing I 

I’m going to tell you about it. 

It began day before yesterday, just after I 
mailed my last letter to you. Remember I told 
you there was a storm brewing? Well, I stood 


111 


112 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


at my window and watched it brew. And all 
the witches in the winds never brewed such a 
tempest before. 

At first the clouds were solid and gray-green, 
but whirling and tumbling over one another as if 
they were boiling. A queer, grayish yellow 
storm-light covered land and sea and gave a 
ghastly effect to everything. The madly waving 
trees over the Point seemed slate-gray and the 
grass was yellow ochre. 

The wind began to blow. After the first tre- 
mendous puff, I had to stop looking out of the 
window to pick up the contents of my room. 
They had been sent flying in every direction. 

Before I could get the window closed, the room 
was damp with the rain that seemed to come in 
in solid water. Throughout the hotel doors were 
banging and blinds were slamming and people 
were running and shouting. The rain was roar- 
ing on the windows and the wind howled above 
all. The air got steadily darker. 

I put on a raincoat and cap and started down- 
stairs. The instant I opened the door of my 
room, I was sucked up through it and it slammed 
after me. 

Outdoors, with the rain coming down like a 
waterfall and the flying spray and sand, I could 
no more look into the wind toward the ocean than 


THE STORM 


113 

I could look through a wall. But I could hear 
the fearful pounding of the surf. The roar of 
the wind and waves was deafening. For, before 
the storm had “broken” fifteen minutes, the waves 
were running “mountain-high” — and, really, they 
sounded like falling mountains. 

I was as wet in a second as if I had been blown 
overboard and I would have been the whole 
length of the piazza if I hadn’t held on nobly 
by the door-knob. 

In the shelter of the lea of the house, you 
could stand and breathe. There I met a few 
others. Some yelled, “Tornado!” and some 
shouted back, “No — too extended for a tornado. 
Cyclone or hurricane!” 

The storm kept bellowing for hours. But 
suddenly, as if on a signal, the wind stopped 
blowing. 

It was as if somebody had closed King iEolus’s 
window. The wind and rain stopped, but the 
surf kept on pounding and the waves rode high. 

I went to the beach to look at the sea. The 
yellow-gray light was still over everything and 
I could see the enormous waves rear up and 
smash down. 

And on the Point, right in front of the Candors’ 
cottage, a big schooner was coming ashore ! 

It was an awful sight. AH four masts were 


114 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


gone. There was a tangle of masts and rigging 
on deck and “alongside,” and the boat was sent 
swinging upward and then dropped down, rolling 
madly, until one minute I could see her whole 
deck and the next minute most of her keel. 

And there were sailors on her! O Betty, I 
did not have to stop to pray when I saw them. 
It prayed Itself I The vision and the appeal came 
together. And next came the thought of John 
Candor and that his mother must have once 
Imagined scenes like this, night after night. 

Some of the life-saving crew were already get- 
ting the big boat out. But there seemed so few 
of them! For, you know, the men are not on 
duty In the summertime, and some of them were 
away. So I ran toward the Point to see If I 
could help. 

It did not look as If It would be possible to 
launch the boat through that surf. And, though 
the wind had stopped blowing, the schooner was 
coming ashore with the send of the waves. I 
thought she must certainly strike the beach very 
soon and be rolled over and over like a cork. 

But she suddenly swung around, head to sea, 
and seemed to hang there. Her anchors were 
down and had caught and held her. But every 
wave flung her up toward the sky and jumped 


THE STORM 


115 

over her even then. By this time I had reached 
the Point. 

There were but five men working to get the 
boat out and only three of them were members 
of the regular life-saving crew, who really knew 
how to launch the boat. And it was a task for 
at least ten trained surfmen; for it was a new, 
up-to-date life-boat, very large and very heavy, 
with a big gasoline engine, besides places for 
twelve oars. 

I joined the five men and we got the boat down 
to the edge of the water. The life-boat was on 
a sort of a truck with two wheels and easy enough 
to roll along the beach. The trouble began after 
that. 

“Can any of you fellows run a gasoline engine?” 
yelled one of the life-saving men, above the roar 
of the surf. 

As nobody answered, I said I would try. 

“Get in, then, and start her up!” he shouted. 

So I climbed up into the boat and fussed about 
with the big motor. After a few precious min- 
utes that seemed like hours, I found the various 
cocks and switches and succeeded in starting the 
engine. 

“Now, all together, boys!” commanded the 
surfman. “Run her in when I say the word. — 
Now!” 


ii6 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


Everybody pushed and the truck ran down into 
the water. The surfman had chosen the exact 
moment when a wave had struck and was retreat- 
ing — but we were too slow. The next wave came 
rolling up and smashed into foam a few feet 
ahead of us; the water surged up over the wheels 
of the boat and swung her around sideways, in 
spite of all we could do. One of the volunteers 
was thrown against the truck and hurt so badly 
that he had to give up. So there was the boat, 
all but upset — the truck sinking into the sand — 
and only four men left, besides me, still in the 
boat. 

Three more men came running up to help and 
we got the truck back on the beach and pointed 
straight at the water again. We tried again and 
again to make a launching — in vain. The last 
time, that wave not only lifted the boat off the 
truck and knocked it sideways, but also dashed it 
hard against the beach. I was thrown out. For- 
tunately I had stopped the engine first. 

“They’ll have to drown,” said one of the surf- 
men; he was crying like a woman. “They’ll have 
to drown. We can’t do anything.” 

And just at that moment came Captain Candor, 
running like a boy, with six more men that he 
had got together. 

“Come on, boys!” his voice rang out cheerily. 


THE STORM 


117 


“We’ll get them off! Here are men enough to 
launch a war vessel, let alone this little skiff. Get 
along the gunwale, all of you. You, Robert — are 
you the engineer? — get in there and be ready to 
start the motor. Now! With every wave give 
her a lift out. Now! Again! Again! Lift 
her! Heave!” 

His cheerful, hearty voice was so compelling 
that they actually did lift the boat — the waves 
helping — until she was straightened out and again 
pointed toward the water. The waves rolled up 
around her. If we could get her a few feet 
farther in she would float. But, even when afloat, 
there would be those angry breakers, ready to 
swing her around and roll her over. 

But Captain Candor knew his business. He 
was as calm and quiet as could be. Inch by inch, 
he worked the boat farther down, until the men 
lifting at the bow were up to their waists in the 
water and could scarcely keep their feet. 

“The next wave will do it for us!” called the 
Captain. “When I speak, lift for your lives, 
heave her down as far as you can, and when she 
floats, jump in quick! You, engineer, stand by 
to start ! And, remember, all, that He who made 
the sea will give us power!” 

We were tired and panting and wet; but the 
Captain’s voice thrilled us like new life. 


ii8 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


Tense and prepared, we watched the next wave 
come rolling in. It was a big fellow. It curled 
over, smashed into foam and the surge rushed up 
the beach, boiling around us. I could feel the 
boat quiver. 

“Now!” ordered the Captain. 

I felt the boat tremble and start, then make a 
long slide through the sand; the men, up to their 
waists in water, lifting and pushing. I felt her 
leave the sand and float; the receding wave sucked 
her out rapidly. 

“Tump in!” came the order, and to me, “Go 
ahead!” 

Five of the men succeeded in getting in. The 
rest were too tired or not quick enough. The 
Captain came over the rail like a flying-fish, and 
grasped the big steering oar. I had the engine 
running fast. The boat went out on the back of 
the receding wave. The men put oars out and 
rowed. It all happened in a flash. 

I had to run the engine hard, for we knew that 
unless we got out beyond the line where the waves 
broke, before the next one came smashing down 
on us, we should be swamped or rolled over. 
We had only a few seconds. 

We made it ! The boat met the next wave just 
before it broke. We climbed up its front, hung 


THE STORM 


119 

almost perpendicularly, then went over into the 
hollow beyond. 

If the Captain had moved a hair’s breadth the 
wrong way, — well, he didn’t, but held the boat 
true as a line. 

We passed over the next big wave and the 
next. And the rest was easy. 

We ran down to the wreck, came up as close 
as we dared; and the men on her jumped for 
us. Some jumped into the boat, some fell short 
and had to be dragged In. But we got them all ! 
All were unhurt, too, except one who pitched for- 
ward as he landed in the boat and struck his head 
on my engine. He was knocked unconscious. 

After we had them all, we ran up the beach 
and around the Point into quiet water and landed 
everybody safely. 

Captain Candor had the unconscious man — 
who will soon be well, the doctor says — brought 
into his house and made me come, too, to spend 
the night. 

Mother Candor, very pale and trembling, met 
us at the door. She put her arms around the 
wet, tired Captain and held him close. 

“Thank God, you saved them I” she said. 

“Thank God, He saved them!” replied the 
Captain as he kissed her. 


120 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


Now, what do you think of my Candors, Betty 
Beloved?” 

Your sailor brother, 

Bob. 

Betty’s eyes were wet and she was very serious 
when she finished reading her letter. She gravely 
followed the little Cedar Brook trail up which 
her parents had gone on their way to Deer Hill 
for ferns. 

They saw her coming toward them in her quick 
way; but something subdued in her manner made 
Mrs. Anderson say, “Here comes our daughter, 
with something on her mind.” 

Betty began to talk to them as soon as she 
got within speaking distance. 

“Mother, Father,” she said, earnestly, “Robert 
Anderson is a hero I And Captain Candor is 
one I Don’t be frightened. Mother! Bob’s all 
right, perfectly all right. See the long letter he 
wrote. I came to bring it to you to read right 
away. Only please don’t read it out loud. I feel 
as if I couldn’t bear to read it again just yet, or to 
hear it read right away, either. It gave me the 
scaredest, creepiest, cryingest feelings. But I’m 
happy, very. And so proud of Robert! Will you 
read it to yourselves, please? For I don’t want to 


THE STORM 


121 


go away. I feel as if I wanted to be by you 
right now, Mother.’’ 

Mrs. Anderson put her arm around Betty and 
drew her down on the log beside her, and kept 
her held close while her parents read the letter 
in silence. 

They understood and shared Betty’s mixed 
emotions. 

“I think I feel both proud and creepy, too, as 
Betty does,” said her father. 

“I feel thankful, deeply thankful,” said Mrs. 
Anderson; “and it seems to me that I can scarcely 
do without seeing Robert to be sure that he is 
really well and none the worse for having been 
in such danger.” 

“Of course, he is well,” Mr. Anderson re- 
assured her. “Our husky Bob can stand a lot 
more than a wetting and a shaking up. Be- 
sides, he must be well or he couldn’t have written 
this long letter to Betty.” 

“I’m so proud of Bob I” said Betty. “Prouder 
than ever, I feel as if I had to see him right away, 
too, to tell him how perfectly bursting with pride 
I am. It makes him preciouser than ever. Isn’t 
it wonderful. Father, that Bob is a hero now?” 

“Now?” said Mr. Anderson in his wise way. 
“Not any more now than always, Betty. Peo- 
ple are not brave on occasion; they are either 


122 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


always brave or always cowardly — though It takes 
the occasion to show it. Mother and I are al- 
ways proud of Robert. Nothing strong and good 
that he could do would seem wonderful or un- 
usual to us.” 

Betty glowed with pleasure. She loved to 
have her brother praised. Then she gave a lit- 
tle humorous, wistful sigh, “It’s hard to be the 
young one of just two children when the big 
one is so splendid,” she said. “I hope you will 
feel like that about me when I’m grown; but I 
don’t see why you ever should.” 

Mrs. Anderson kissed the top of Betty’s brown 
head and smiled at her husband over it, as if 
to say that they felt a good deal of pride and 
confidence in their little daughter already. 

“Isn’t the Captain a glorious old person?” 
said Mr. Anderson. “Speaking of heroism ! At 
his age!” 

“Indeed he Is. But I think Mother Candor 
was even braver than he,” said Mrs. Anderson, 
“because It is harder to stay at home and suffer 
anxiety and suspense and risk your loved ones 
for the sake of others — it Is much harder and 
braver to do that than if you were only risking 
yourself. Besides, you do not have the excite- 
ment to help you bear it. I always think of 
Nansen — the great arctic explorer, Betty, who 


THE STORM 


123 


went up Into the terrible icy wastes. In his book, 
Farthest North, there Is a dedication to his wife, 
which says that the book is In her honor, because 
she was hrave enough to stay at home while he 
went up toward the North Pole exploring.” 

“That’s true,” said Betty. “Everybody has 
to be brave some way, don’t they? I’m anxious 
to tell Primrose about the storm,” she went on. 
“She’ll be so proud and excited. That’s one of 
the nicest things about Primrose; she is always 
as glad as I am about the things that make me 
glad.” 


CHAPTER X 


PRIMROSE^S COUSIN AND NIGHT IN THE WOODS 

“ T SUPPOSE I had better not go up the moun- 
^ tain this morning, Mother?’’ asked Betty 
on the porch after breakfast. 

“Why, my dear, perhaps you had better not, 
as you are going to spend the night there. Give 
the Garlands a little time alone,” replied Mrs. 
Anderson smilingly. 

“Yes — I suppose I ought to be willing to let 
a day go by without Primrose, as I am going to 
have such a gorgeous time with her to-night, 
sleeping up on the mountain, and spending the 
evening in that darling little house. Oh! It is 
so good of them to want me and so good of 
you and Father to let me go, and I am so happy! 
— Do you think that Mr. Garland will think that 
I come too often? I don’t want to wear my 
welcome out,” said Betty anxiously. 

“I am certain he does not think so, dear. I 
am certain that he must be glad to have Prim- 
rose see you as often as she can. But Primrose 
124 


PRIMROSE’S COUSIN 125 

has little tasks to do and perhaps it is just as 
well to give her a day off once in a while.” 

“Yes, Mother. But the best of it is that some- 
times she lets me help her in her tasks. I love 
to. They are such fun! It is just like playing 
house. Only Primrose does it all so quickly and 
well, just like a grown-up; it is quite wonderful. 
I love to help her and I know it does me good, 
too. Primrose taught me to make a bed much 
better than Fraulein ever did, and now I can 
turn flap-jacks and dust books without making 
clouds. Besides getting cresses and sassafras and 
pennyroyal and all the lovely outdoor things that 
Primrose does! I just know I won’t wear out 
my welcome with her; for she never could with 
me. 

“You are right, my dear. That’s a part of 
friendship, wanting to be together. Friendship 
is just sharing. That is why I am so happy about 
you and Bob; you are friends as well as loving 
sister and brother.” 

“Who wouldn’t be friends with Bobbles, 
Mother? I’m so glad and thankful that he is 
safe and that the storm didn’t hurt him. I 
thought I valued him all I could; but I believe I 
love him even more now. You know. Mother, 
I’ve seen some big brothers that aren’t good for 
anything but teasing their sisters.” 


126 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


“You are right to appreciate Robert. But I 
think he has a pretty sweet little sister, too. 
There’s something in that** 

Betty gave her mother a happy kiss. She 
loved to be praised by Mrs. Anderson because 
she knew that her words were always very care- 
ful and sincere. 

“Rob has been proud and fond of you from 
the very beginning,” her mother went om “The 
day that you walked your first steps alone — Bob 
was just a lad — he telephoned to our friends and 
neighbors and proudly told them about it. It 
was a joke in the neighborhood for years. T 
thought you’d want to hear the news,’ he said to 
them. And every little while for months after- 
ward, old Mr. Rowland used to call Bob up on 
the ’phone and ask him, ‘Any news, to-day, Rob- 
ert?’ ” 

Betty laughed. 

“Yes; and once when I was a mite and Bob 
took me with him and some other fellows in the 
pony wagon, one of the big boys said — right 
out loud, as if little girls were deaf or had no 
feelings — ‘Don’t you hate to have the Kid tag- 
ging behind you?’ And Bob said, ‘Betty never 
tags behind. She doesn’t have to, because I take 
her with me.’ Well, I’ll go get some everlasting 
for a pillow for Mrs. Althorpe. Somebody told 


PRIMROSE’S COUSIN 117 

her they were good for headaches. They are 
beautiful up on Pennyroyal Peak where the sheep 
are — great big, white, full sprays and lots of 
them. I do hope that Miss Connie will be in the 
room when I bring them home, and not Mrs. Al- 
thorpe. I love Miss Connie, but I’m really a little 
bit afraid of her grandmother. Mrs. Althorpe is 
so very straight-up-and-down, and so very chilly.” 

Mrs. Anderson laughed. She could not deny 
that Mrs. Althorpe had a frigid manner. 

“Miss Connie is so different,” said Betty. “I 
enjoy being with her. And I love to go into her 
room. She’s made it so pretty, like a real room 
and not at all like a hotel. Only,” — Betty sighed 
a little — “when I’m there I almost have to hold 
my hands about my face like the blinders that 
horses wear, to keep my eyes from the picture 
of Primrose’s mother on Miss Connie’s table. 
Well, good-bye, Mother. I’m going for the ever- 
lastings.” 

It did not take Betty long to go down the main 
road and through the thistle-filled old pasture and 
to cross the quiet little brown stream triclding 
over its stones and to climb the rocky hill where 
the sheep were grazing. The sunny hillside was 
fragrant with the pennyroyal that gave it its 
name and white with great clumps of the ever- 
lasting blooms. 


128 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


“The masses of everlasting look so much like 
the sheep I can scarcely tell them apart,” thought 
Betty. “Wouldn’t Mrs. Althorpe be surprised if 
I picked her a sheep by mistake !” 

She laughed aloud, picturing Mrs. Althorpe’s 
expression. 

“Mrs. Althorpe’s so very proper, though,” she 
continued, playing with the thought, “that maybe 
she wouldn’t show any surprise at all. I guess 
she’d say politely, ‘Thank you, Elizabeth, I have 
always desired a sheep.’ ” 

Startled by her laughter, the big ram turned 
his head inquiringly and regarded Betty with 
grave suspicion. But when the tawny shepherd 
dog. Rover, whom she knew well, came bound- 
ing forward to welcome her with happy barks and 
waves of his plumy white tail, the ram was re- 
assured and turned away again. 

It was pleasant on the sunny hillside and Betty 
gathered all the everlasting blooms she could 
hold in both arms. 

She made a pretty picture in her red frock and 
broad white hat with her arms full of the flow- 
ers, and the people she passed on the road as she 
went homeward stopped to smile at her. But the 
things they liked best of all were Betty’s happy 
face and polite, gay little greetings. 

Betty found Mrs. Althorpe and Miss Connie 


PRIMROSE’S COUSIN 


129 


on the porch when she reached the hotel. She 
made her little curtsy and presented the flowers 
to Mrs. Althorpe. 

That coldly correct old lady said, “Thank you, 
Elizabeth. I have greatly wished for some ever- 
lasting.’’ And that reminded Betty of her thought 
about the sheep and she could hardly keep from 
laughing. 

“I’m going upstairs, now,” said Miss Connie, 
“to put these bluebells in water. I’ll take the ever- 
lastings, too.” 

“Please let me carry them up for you,” said 
Betty, who loved to be with Miss Connie. 

Betty spread sprays of everlasting out to dry 
on the window ledge, while Miss Connie put her 
bluebells in water in a small opal-tinted vase. 
When they were all arranged Miss Connie placed 
the vase on the little table so that the bluebells 
hung over the miniature of Primrose Garland’s 
mother. 

Betty tried hard not to watch her. She al- 
ways turned around to look at the books or out 
of the window when Miss Connie went near that 
table. She was so afraid of staring. But this 
time she could not help throwing a quick glance 
or two back at the picture. She did not get her 
eyes away quite as quickly as she wished, and 


130 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

Miss Connie saw her interest and said, “Isn’t that 
a charming face?” 

Betty’s heart almost stopped beating. 

“Lovely I” she managed to say, afraid that her 
trembling voice would betray her. 

“Bluebells seem to go with that miniature — as 
they did with the original of it,” said Miss Con- 
nie. “She looked like them, with her deep blue 
eyes and the blues she used to wear, and she loved 
them, too.” 

Betty said nothing. She did not know what 
to say. She could feel her cheeks burning hot. 
She did not know whether she hoped or whether 
she feared that Miss Connie would say more. 

Miss Connie, quite unconscious of Betty’s ex- 
citement, continued, “It is the picture of a cousin 
of mine who died — though she is always alive to 
us. She was so bright and happy that we can- 
not think about her sadly now, but know that all 
is well with her and with us. My Cousin Pri- 
mula — she was like an older sister to me.” 

“Primula I” thought the astounded Betty. “The 
fancy name that Bob said meant Primrose! Oh! 
Now I am surer than sure it is the picture of Prim- 
rose’s mother.” 

Betty’s head went round in a whirl. So Miss 
Connie was Primrose Garland’s cousin! 

Betty simply couldn’t get over it. 


PRIMROSE’S COUSIN 131 

Miss Connie and Primrose cousins I And Miss 
Connie not to know that Primrose was right up 
the mountain! When Betty thought of that she 
could not stay In Miss Connie’s room a moment 
longer. She kissed her and fairly ran out to find 
her mother. 

Mrs. Anderson saw at once that something ex- 
citing was on her little daughter’s mind; so she 
left the other guests In the sitting-room and 
walked up and down under the trees with Betty, 
who poured out all her thrilling news. 

Mrs. Anderson gently calmed her excitement 
and spoke to her a long time about secrets, how 
it Is better not to have any of our own if we can 
help It, and how It Is our duty to respect the se- 
crets of others. 

Betty heaved a sigh. 

*‘I do not like secrets or strangenesses at all,” 
said frank, open-hearted little Betty, “and I know 
I shall burst if this one doesn’t clear up soon.” 

“Let us forget the strangeness,” said Mrs. An- 
derson, “and think only about the joys we are 
having.” 

“Yes. Primrose says, ‘Gather ye roses while 
ye may.’ So I will. And I surely have a lovely 
one to gather now. Only think! I am going 
to spend the night — the night — the night — up 


132 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

the mountain !” Betty danced a little jig of pleas- 
ure. 

“Do you think it will rain to-night, Mother?” 
she asked anxiously. “It rained a wee bit last 
night. I heard it tip-tapping on the tin roof; and 
the smell of the pines was all goody when I woke 
this morning. When I first went to the window I 
was afraid we were going to have more, for the 
early sky was quite dark. But Joe Silver once 
told me that if there is enough blue in the sky to 
make a Dutchman’s breeches it will clear up. And 
there was — more than enough.” 

“Well, it certainly did clear up, dear. Joe was 
right so far. It is a brilliant day and the night 
will doubtless be as good.” 

When the evening came at last — and it seemed 
to the eager Betty as if it never would come — it 
was indeed beautiful, pale blue and starry. The 
moonlight began early and was bright even while 
the daylight was still in the sky. 

After dinner Betty slipped out of the back door 
to meet Joe Silver, who was to escort her to Prim- 
rose’s. She did not want to go through the front 
entrance and have all the people on the porch 
ask her where she was going. 

It always embarrassed and troubled Betty when 
they asked her that when she was on her way to 
Primrose’s. She always answered, “To see a lit- 


PRIMROSE’S COUSIN 


133 


tie girl Joe Silver knows/* That was quite true, 
of course; but frank, honest little Betty always 
felt secret and deceitful when she said only that 
and no more. Of course, she could not tell the 
whole truth and betray Mr. Garland’s confidence. 

Slipping out of the back door in the dusk and 
going up the mountain in the evening light seemed 
lovely and mysterious and “fairy princessy,” 
Betty thought. The fireflies helped to make it 
seem so, and the soft little chirrups of nesting 
birds added to the charm. 

Joe Silver liked it too. Every little while he 
looked down at Betty and chuckled as if he were 
pleased with himself for having brought about 
the little girls’ friendship. 

He did not say a word until they were well up 
the Job Road. Then he stood still a moment in 
an open place, full of late evening glow and early 
moonlight. Betty stopped too and lifted her face 
inquiringly. She understood Joe Silver well 
enough now to know that he would speak in time 
if she waited quietly. 

After a while he said, just as if they were still 
talking together for the first time about Prim- 
rose, “To help somebody, I think you said? 
Wasn’t that it? That you wanted somebody to 

helpr 

Betty replied, “Yes, Joe,” 


134 the kind adventure 

And he said slowly, ‘‘W-e-ll?” and began walk- 
ing on again. 

Betty followed with her forehead puckered in 
perplexity. She wondered what he meant. But 
he would not say any more. Only once in a while 
he turned and looked at her in a strange, steady 
way. 

And all of a sudden Betty knew. 

He meant that she had not really helped Prim- 
rose at all. Of course, it was nice for Primrose 
to have a little friend, but, then, it was just as 
nice for Betty herself. And Joe was thinking that 
when Betty went home again it might not be any 
easier for Primrose that they had been together 
all summer. It might even be harder. Betty did 
not like the thought, but she could see that it was 
true. 

So Betty asked, very seriously, “What do you 
think I should do, Joe?” 

He chuckled, “A quick little puss I A pretty 
quick little puss!” And, after a long while he an- 
swered, “Do? Why, whatever is to be done, I 
guess. Whatever is needed.” 

Then he showed Betty a little owl just “get- 
ting up for the night,” and said no more about 
the Garlands. 

Though, of course, Betty was interested in the 
little owl, she could not stop thinking about Prim- 


PRIMROSE’S COUSIN 


135 


rose and how she could help her. She thought 
and thought and thought and said over and over 
to herself, “What does Primrose most need? 
What does Primrose most need?” 

At last she ventured timidly, “Joe?” 

And he answered, “Hum-m?” 

And Betty said, “To come down off the moun- 
tain and live like folks, I guess.” 

Joe Silver put back his head and laughed and 
laughed. He laughed long and hard. Betty 
thought she had never seen anybody quite so 
pleased. But he never said a single word to her. 

“That is what Primrose most needs,” thought 
Betty in her loving, earnest heart. “And I do 
want to help her. So I shall have to think and 
pray about it. For I do not see a single way now 
to help her to get back to the world.” 

Primrose and Amico were waiting for Betty 
half-way up the mountain. Primrose’s voice was 
not quite as gay as usual and, when they were 
close enough, Betty could see even in the dusk 
that Primrose had been crying. Amico seemed 
to know it, too, for he kept specially close to her 
and licked her hand lovingly much oftener than 
he usually did. Betty noticed that it seemed to 
comfort Primrose, for she smiled every time. So 
Betty just said nothing, but took Primrose’s other 


136 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

hand and squeezed and patted it, following Ami- 
co’s example. 

Joe Silver left the little girls at Primrose’s pri- 
vate path. 

Betty could see that Primrose did not feel like 
talking just then, so she did not speak to her at all. 

They came along together quietly, holding 
hands in silent understanding. 

The moss was so very soft that you could not 
even hear their footfalls. 

Then, in the silence, they saw a wonderful 
sight. 

The moon had grown very bright and cast rib- 
bons of light through the trees. Just where the 
line of forest stopped at the Garlands’ little clear- 
ing, on a sort of terrace, everything seemed to 
glow with creamy light. The air looked like the 
inside of a pearl. 

And in the brightest spot were two tiny baby 
foxes playing in the moonlight! 

They played like kittens or puppies, only 
friskier and gayer and lighter. 

They were lovely little cubs. Their tails were 
so fluffy and their noses were quivery and im- 
pudent and they were the wildest, freest things 
Betty had ever seen. 

Primrose held Amico back and put her hand 
over his nose. They were all three as still as 



“in the silence, they saw a wonderful sight" — Page 136 




PRIMROSE’S COUSIN 137 

could be. But, In just a few seconds, the fox 
cubs scented them and ran away. 

The girls laughed with pleasure. 

“Weren’t they dear? And didn’t they just 
scoot!” said Betty. “They needn’t have feared 
us. I’m sure we wouldn’t have hurt them.” 

“No, indeed,” said Primrose; “I cannot im- 
agine how anyone could want to kill the wild 
things who had seen them when they were really 
wild and free and happy and not scared or run- 
ning or fighting and hating their hunters.” 

By that time the cottage was in sight. Mr. 
Garland stood in the doorway to greet them. He 
leaned very heavily on his cane. He could 
scarcely hop about : his foot hurt him so. 

“He fell over some stones a few months ago,” 
Primrose told Betty in a whisper, “and strained 
some tendons. And he will not see a doctor, as 
Joe and I beg him to; but just takes care of it 
himself. And it doesn’t get better quickly at all 
and I am so worried. That is why I had been 
crying just before you came.” 

Mr. Garland was very brave and cheery and 
pretended that his foot did not hurt at all. 

They sat by the crackling log fire that bright- 
ened up the little cabin, and roasted nuts and 
apples and themselves. Mr. Garland sat in the 


138 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

rustic chair with his foot on a pillow and Prim- 
rose and Betty sat on the rug before him. 

While they were eating the nuts and apples he 
told them delightful stories. 

The one that Betty liked best — and it helped 
her afterward, as you shall see — was about a lit- 
tle girl named Balaustion, which means Wild 
Pomegranate Flower. 

“This little girl with the lovely name,” said 
Mr. Garland, “lived in Rhodes, long, long ago, 
when all the Greek world was at war because the 
great cities, Athens and Sparta, were fighting each 
other for the control of Greece. Athens was the 
home of poetry and art and everything beautiful, 
and the people of Rhodes, where Balaustion lived, 
loved it better than the severe and warlike Sparta. 
They were either Athenians themselves or the 
friends and allies of the Athenians. They had 
pledged their word to help Athens all that they 
could. But they became frightened of the Spar- 
tans and changed their allegiance. They gave 
up their old friendship for Athens and, through 
fear, promised the Spartans aid. This seemed a 
shameful thing to Balaustion. So, like a long-ago 
Joan of Arc, she roused the Athenian patriots — 
those who were most loyal in their hearts — and 
so stirred many of them that they took a ship 
and set sail for Athens, braving many perils to 


PRIMROSE’S COUSIN 


139 


do so. At last a terrible storm and more terri- 
ble pirates drove the ship ashore at Syracuse. 
The sailors and all the poor Rhodesians would 
have given up all hope and perished before they 
reached the shore if they had not kept their spirits 
up by a brave Athenian song. 

“But — alas ! — ^that very song nearly cost them 
their lives. For the city of Syracuse, where they 
made landing, was then a Spartan stronghold; 
and the Syracusans threatened to cast the poor 
Rhodesians back upon the pirates and the storm 
because they had been singing an Athenian song. 

“Then Balaustion saved them in the most mar- 
velous way. By knowing a poem! 

“You see, the whole world was enraptured just 
then with the works of the great poet Euripides. 

Euripides the human, 

With droppings of warm tears! 

“That is what he has been called because his 
words stirred hearts to tenderness. People loved 
to hear his poems more than we love to hear the 
most beautiful music. You see, there were no 
printed books like ours, and people had to hear 
poetry from the lips of those who had learned 
it by heart — instead of reading it for themselves 


140 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

as we do. And the Syracusans hardly ever had a 
chance to hear Euripides. 

“Some one spoke of him while the discussion as 
to what should be done to the poor Rhodesians 
was going on, and the captain of the ship told 
the Syracusans that Balaustion knew Euripides’ 
poems so well that little pieces of them kept fall- 
ing from her lips thick as snow flakes. 

“They put aside their unkind intentions for a 
time and begged Balaustion to speak some of the 
poetry of Euripides to them. 

“Wild Pomegranate Flower was not a bit 
frightened by all the strange and angry or un- 
friendly faces. She trusted Euripides to soften 
their hearts. She told them a whole play — gladly 
repeated to them every word of the poet’s ten- 
derest, most beautiful play and brought the beauty 
of loving kindness home to them so deeply that 
they turned into friends instead of enemies. All 
by a poem I” 

“It is wonderful,” said Betty, “and very 
strange, too, that she could do so much only by 
a poet’s help.” 

Mr. Garland laughed and said, “That is be- 
cause 


Hearts are hearts 
And poetry is power. 


PRIMROSE’S COUSIN 


141 


That is the way Browning explains it, and Brown- 
ing is the English poet who wrote about Balaus- 
tion.” 

“I think Balaustion’s courage was power, too,” 
said Betty. 

They sat quietly thinking over the story and 
in her secret heart Betty made a great resolution. 
She made up her mind to have faith and courage 
like Balaustion and to make herself brave enough, 
just as soon as she could, to see if something could 
not be done to get Primrose and her father down 
from the mountain and to do it, whatever it was. 

The first thing to be done was to find out what 
mysterious cause was keeping them there. Her 
father knew and she would ask him, frankly, to 
tell her. Then she would do what had to be done, 
as Joe had said. There must be some way, surely. 

It was a very big resolution for a little girl to 
take, to try to regulate and help the troubles of 
a grown-up man, of which she knew nothing. It 
made Betty tremble to think of it. She was glad 
that she did not have to begin right away. 

“I love your stories. They’re just splendid I” 
she told Mr. Garland, and Primrose said, in her 
quaint way, “I am so sure that every girl would 
love my wondrous life with this gifted father.” 

Mr. Garland was touched and pleased at that 


142 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

and he bent down and kissed Primrose’s fore- 
head and said, “Dear little woman!” 

Betty thought it sweet, but very strange, and 
opened her eyes so wide that Mr. Garland asked, 
“What are you thinking. Brown Eyes?” 

Betty blushed and laughed but answered frank- 
ly, “I beg your pardon, Mr. Garland; but I 
couldn’t help thinking how much you and Prim- 
rose talk like people in a book. And I couldn’t 
help smiling to think how astonished you and 
Primrose would be to hear father say to me, as he 
did this very morning, ‘Come here, you little rap- 
scallion, and hug your poor old Dad!’ ” 

Mr. Garland laughed heartily and pinched 
Betty’s cheek, as he said, “Well, it all means the 
same thing; doesn’t it. Double Dimple?” 

He had a lot of funny names for Betty and she 
liked them. 

Soon it was time for bed. Betty said it was 
“the fairy-est” going to bed she had ever known. 

For the little girls slept outdoors on a balsam 
bed, under a little lean-to of balsam boughs that 
Joe Silver had made for them that day. They 
were wrapped up well and snugly and were quite 
safe; for the wee lean-to was just outside of 
the window of Primrose’s room and Amico lay in 
sight of them. 

Oh ! It was the sweetest night, all smelling of 


PRIMROSE’S COUSIN 


143 

woods and full of stars and the sounds of in- 
sects and running water! 

Betty stretched out on the balsam bed with a 
little gasp of delight. 

“What does it make you think of, Primrose?” 
she asked. “It makes me think we are Babes in 
the Wood — only happy ones, with nothing to be 
afraid of.” 

And Primrose said, “It makes me think of the 
poet’s line: 

She walks in beauty like the night.” 

Betty laughed. 

“I think that is just about the difference be- 
tween you and me, Primrose,” she said. 

Betty lay awake a long while, enjoying the 
beauty of the night and thinking of all the im- 
portant events of the wonderful day: the mys- 
tery of Miss Connie’s being Primrose’s cousin, 
Joe Silver’s warning to Betty that something 
should be done by her for Primrose, and her own 
serious resolution. 

“I wish Bob were here to advise me,” she 
thought. “Bob always knows what to do. Well, 
anyway, I can try to think just what Bob would 
do if he were here, and do that. I can say, as 
Primrose would, ‘I’m sure that any girl would 


144 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


love my gifted brother.’ Anyway, I do. And 
I’m going to make my Kind Adventure really 
helpful, as he is making his. I will try to be 
brave like Balaustion.” 

Soon all the joys and all the puzzles were for- 
gotten in the soothing slumbers of the summer 
night. 


CHAPTER XI 


TWO LETTERS AND SOME HOPE 


T> ETTY ANDERSON was not the sort of girl 
to fret and worry, but she could not help 
having little qualms of anxiety now and then 
about Robert — she did so hope that he would 
feel no ill effects of his strenuous adventure in 
the storm. 

Therefore, when she heard the driver who 
brought up the mail call out, “Miss Elizabeth 
Anderson!” she tore downstairs eagerly and met 
him in the hall. 

Mrs. Anderson was already reading her own 
letters. She understood the reason for Betty’s 
special haste and looked up and said, “All right, 
daughter! I have a letter from Robert; he is 
well and happy.” 

Betty heaved a little sigh of relief and grati- 
tude. 

“I hope I have one from him, too,” she said. 
And in another moment she gave a little squeak 
of pleasure. “Oh, Mother!” she cried out. 
145 


146 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

“He’s written me two — two in one day I Some- 
thing interesting must be happening.” 

She took her precious letters to her favorite 
sunny corner of the porch and sat in the ham- 
mock and read: 


Cape Wildwind, August 24th. 

Betty mine, 

The weather and all else have calmed down 
wonderfully and the sea and sky look so bright 
and placid that if I did not know what I do about 
them I might believe that they never could kick 
up a rumpus. 

I was pretty well shaken up by my experience 
in the storm and very glad to lie around on the 
sand and loaf for a day or two. Mother Can- 
dor has made me stay at her house for a little 
while, and indeed I should have been pestered 
to death if she had not. For everybody in the 
hotel — everybody on the coast of the great At- 
lantic, I believe — wanted to ask me about the 
storm, the wreck, the rescue, and how I felt and 
what I thought and ever so many other things. 
And I just wanted to say, “Let me alone, do I” 
I sympathized with the poor babies who are jog- 
gled and “amused” when all they want is soli- 
tude and reflection. 

At last the good Candors succeeded in pro- 


TWO LETTERS AND SOME HOPE 147 

tectlng me well from everybody but one chubby 
little boy. 

They did not have the heart to drive him away, 
for he was so charming. 

“Are you wet?” asked he. 

“Not now,” I replied. 

“Was you awful wet?” 

“Very.” 

“O dear I Wisht I was you. I love to be wet.” 

Then, after a while, “Is the poor man dead?” 

“Oh, no. He’s getting better every day.” 

“Why did he jump on his head?” 

This was explained. 

“If I fetch you a soft, soft hanky and a little 
bottle of cologne, will you put it on his head? My 
mamma always puts one on hers when it hurts 
her.” 

“Thank you very much. But you need not 
trouble. The doctor is making his head well as 
fast as can be.” 

“Well, this makes heads well fast. It always 
makes my mamma’s well, really. And feels all 
goody. And I know it makes heads all better 
fast, ’cause once my kitten wouldn’t play and I 
thinked maybe he had a headache — ’cause my 
mamma always plays except when she has one — 
and I putted a little cologne and a soft hanky on 


148 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

kitty’s head and he got well right away and ran 
off, quick, quick, quick!” 

“Ah, but you see, we do not wish our poor man 
to run off quick.” 

“Why?” 

This was not easy to answer. 

“Why — because — well, we’d like to talk to him 
a little bit and get to know him better.” 

“Oh! What do you want to tell the poor 
man?” 

And so the little interrogation point kept on 
throughout the day, very engaging and polite, but 
most disturbing when one was yearning to rest. 

At last Mother Candor bribed him with good- 
ies and took him away, still asking questions. The 
last one I heard as his voice trailed off was, “And 
have you got any of those little, roundy, browndy 
things — I think they call them ‘coo — ookies’?” 

I could tell him that she has, indeed. She is 
a regular fairy godmother for goodies. I shall 
be quite spoiled by them before I return to the 
hotel to-morrow. 

Our sick sailor — the “poor man who jumped 
on his head” — is getting better. His face is still 
badly torn and swollen and he is not always 
awake and does not always realize where he is 
or what has happened. But he is recovering rap- 
idly. The doctor is proud of him and we are 


TWO LETTERS AND SOME HOPE 149 


all thankful. For he had a blow that might 
well have killed him. 

The other rescued sailors showed an interest 
in him that proved him a popular man. It was 
more than “kindly inquiry.” They seemed to care 
intensely about his recovery and would not leave 
Wildwind until they were entirely sure that he 
was “going to make the near shore and not the 
far one,” as one of them put it. 

They have all departed now, leaving him in 
good hands, you may be sure. They said such 
grateful things to the Candors that Mother Can- 
dor cried out with shining eyes, “Oh! Do hush, 
my dear boys 1 ” and the Captain turned and fled. 
For to him they owe their lives and they were 
constantly seeking quiet ways of showing him that 
they appreciated it. 

Mother Candor asked every one of them 
whether he had known her John, but none of them 
had ever run across him. She is always looking 
out for some hint that will lead to the finding 
of John’s baby. 

“If only I could meet some shipmate of his or 
some friend who had seen him during his last 
days!” she says. “Someone to whom he might 
have said at what port his wife and baby were to 
have met him!” 

She feels certain that someone must have taken 


150 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

care of the baby after its mother’s death — for 
they have no doubt that the mother must have 
died, since they have never heard from her — and 
Mother Candor thinks that if she could only get 
a starting point she could trace the present where- 
abouts of John’s child. She is very stout-hearted; 
she has not a doubt that it is possible to find her 
grandchild even after so many years. 

She has some hope of getting news of value 
from our own sailor — the semi-conscious man 
who is still here. 

For his name is Timothy Andrews, and John 
had a shipmate and friend called “Big Tim An- 
drews,” of whom he often spoke. The Candors 
have tried several times to locate him, without 
success. John’s Tim had red hair. And this big 
fellow’s hair is so red that it fairly crackles. 

Dear little lady ! She is trying not to hope too 
much, for fear of another disappointment. 

But every little while, she says, “He is big and 
red; now, isn’t he?” 

May he prove to be John Candor’s Tim! 

Here’s a breeze blowing landward. I put a 
kiss on it for you. Your 

Bob. 

“I know they must have found out something! 
I just know it!” Betty said, as she eagerly tore 


TWO LETTERS AND SOME HOPE 151 

open the second letter. She saw that she was 
right, in the very first sentence: 

Cape Wildwind, August 24th. 

O Betty I 

I just had to write again, “the very same day,” 
for something radiant has happened. 

Our wounded sailor is John Candor’s “Big 
Tim Andrews!” 

That is all we know as yet; but the rest may 
be close at hand. 

Mother Candor is going about beaming as if 
she had a light inside of her. She scarcely hopes 
for anything very definite. But some hint, some 
beginning, some foundation on which to build a 
successful search — she cannot help letting herself 
hope for that. 

It was my wicked disobedience and defiance of 
the doctor’s orders that brought “Big Tim’s” 
identity to light. I am quite proud and haughty 
about it — though my conduct was really very 
dreadful and I hope no small sister of mine will 
follow its example. Hem 1 

Oh! I just couldn’t help it, honey! 

Every time Andrews regained consciousness — 
he keeps doing so more and more frequently and 
for longer and longer at a time as he grows bet- 


152 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

ter — Mother Candor would ask the doctor tim- 
idly, “May I question him now? Just one little 
question? Just whether he knew my son?” And 
Doctor Blake would shake his head, reluctantly 
but firmly, and command, “Not yet. Patience a 
little longer!” 

A little while ago I was sitting alone at An- 
drews’ bedside, and he opened his eyes intelli- 
gently and smiled — he has a wonderful smile, 
more mirthful and “catching” than any other I 
have seen — and said feebly, “Here I come, up to 
the surface again!” 

Moved by a sudden impulse, I took a photo- 
graph of John from the mantel-shelf and placed 
it on the bedside table right in line with his glance. 

“Hullo, old Jack Candor!” he murmured and 
closed his eyes. 

I deserted my patient, on a run, and brought 
the news to Mother Candor. 

The expression of her face will be one of the 
great memories of my life. Doctor Blake will 
probably be furious; but Andrews seems no 
worse. And I confess I glory in my misdeed. 

Your reprehensible brother. 

Bob. 

“Isn’t that thrilling!” exclaimed Betty. 
“Wasn’t Bob clever to think of the picture?” she 


TWO LETTERS AND SOME HOPE 153 

thought. “And Pm sure it won’t hurt Tim An- 
drews a bit. Oh I I do hope he will be able to 
give dear Mother Candor some good news. But 
I can’t help hoping, too, that Bob will have a part 
in finding their grandchild, for I know he’d just 
love to. Well! I promised Miss Connie Althorpe 
and her grandmother that Pd help them strip 
balsam for a pillow, so I must. I hope it will be 
very sweet smelly and that they’ll let me strip the 
juicy branches. I think they will, because thos'fe 
are the ones that get your hands so black and 
ladies don’t like them. But I do, because those 
are the branches that smell all goody.” 

So Betty went into the house to share her let- 
ters with her mother and to get her sharp little 
knife for the sweet and woodsy task before her. 


CHAPTER XII 


THE OLD WOMAN UNDER THE HILL 

NE evening after dinner, as Betty walked up 
and down the porch with Miss Connie, she 
felt some one looking at her. 

She glanced up and saw Joe Silver, standing 
in one of the dining-room windows that opened 
on to the porch. He stood in the shadow and 
she could not see him very well; but, as she passed 
the window, she looked more closely and saw that 
he was beckoning to her cautiously. 

Betty excused herself to Miss Connie and went 
back into the big brick-paved kitchen where Joe 
always sat in the evening. He smiled his slow 
smile of pleasure as she entered and said, “When 
you go out to-morrow bring your sewing with 
you.” 

If Betty had not known Joe so well, and un- 
derstood his peculiarities, she might have asked, 
“Why?” or “What for?” or some other question. 
But she realized that the guide had already made 
rather a long speech for him, so she just replied, 
“Thank you, Joe. I will,” and went back to Miss 
154 


OLD WOMAN UNDER THE HILL 155 

Connie, leaving Joe Silver smiling to himself and 
shaking his head approvingly. 

Betty thought a good deal about Joe’s advice, 
however. 

“I suppose that Primrose has some mending 
to do and is going to let me help her,” she said 
to her mother that night when she had gone into 
her room to tell her of Joe’s message. “How 
very grown-up that will seem I But I’m afraid 
Primrose won’t think much of my sewing. You 
ought to see hers, mother! All the stitches are 
straight and even, and there are no knots or 
ravels or little bloodstains to show where you 
have stuck your finger, or anything!” 

“Well, dear, you know what Father always 
says: Having to is the best teacher! Have you 
all the sewing things that you need in your little 
bag, Betty? Perhaps you’d best see and get it all 
ready now, for you’ll want to be off early in the 
morning. I’m sure.” 

“I’m not to go up until the afternoon, dear. 
But I guess I had better get everything ready now, 
as you do, and not be a last-minuter,” said Betty. 
“I have my needles and emery-bag and scissors 
and little blue celluloid thimble; there’s a little 
hole in that where I bit it, but that doesn’t mat- 
ter; I can turn it inside. But I have no thread 
except embroidery silk, because I am making a 


156 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

dolley. I’m going to take my doiley along, in case 
Primrose only wants to have a little sewing-bee. 
But I suppose I ought to take some plain thread 
and buttons and tape and things, in case she wants 
to make anything solid, or to mend anything.” 

“I think so, decidedly, my dear,” said Mrs. An- 
derson, and gave Betty the more practical things 
that might be needed. 

Betty ran off with them and put them into her 
gorgeous silk sewing-bag. She was very proud 
of this beautiful bag. She had received it for 
Christmas, and it was of orange-colored silk, all 
embroidered in gold and pale yellow. Betty 
called it “Sunshine” and the name seemed to fit it. 

With “Sunshine,” properly fitted out, on her 
arm, and sunshine in her heart and in her bright 
face, too, Betty started up the mountain the next 
day. 

Primrose and Amico met her at the head of the 
trail. 

Primrose had a little rush basket on her arm, 
neatly filled with her sewing things; and Betty 
thought that its business-like appearance made 
her lovely “Sunshine” seem very frivolous, in- 
deed. 

But Primrose admired the sunshiny bag 
greatly. 

“What a beautiful bag I” she said, after she 


OLD WOMAN UNDER THE HILL 157 

had kissed and welcomed Betty. “But I don’t see 
how you can sew when it’s around. I should be 
looking at it all the time I” 

“Well, you see, Primrose, I can’t sew very 
well, whether I have it or not,” laughed Betty. 
“So it doesn’t much matter.” 

“Well, then, you’re just ready to go with me 
to-day,” said Primrose, smiling, “because we are 
going to take a sewing lesson now.” 

Betty was filled with curiosity. A sewing les- 
son! She had never seen any woman at Prim- 
rose’s and had never known her to go to any- 
body’s house. She wondered where they could 
be going to take the lesson and from whom. 

“Who is coming to give us the lesson?” she 
asked. 

“No one is coming. We are going to the 
teacher. This is the trail,” and Primrose turned 
in the direction opposite the hidden path that led 
to her house and followed a new trail that crossed 
the brook and went obliquely down the mountain 
toward Split Rock. 

“I usually wait until later in the season before 
I begin my lessons,” said Primrose. “Then all 
the summer visitors have gone. I take them every 
autumn. But Father needs some new shirts 
dreadfully; and I tried to make them and they 
were not good. They were all — what is that 


158 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

funny word you use, Betty? — Oh, yes — ‘higgledy- 
piggledy.’ So I have to take a lesson to-day to 
get them straight.” 

“Sometimes, when you tell me about all your 
duties, and all the grown-up things you do. Prim- 
rose, it makes me feel as if I were not very use- 
ful to my family and I always wish that I had 
been more willing and helpful,” said Betty. 

“Dear Betty,” said Primrose, “I’m sure you 
are useful and helpful to everybody who knows 
you. I’m very certain that you are so to me.” 

“I wish I could be. Primrose I” said Betty with 
a little sigh as she thought of her difficult reso- 
lution. 

“Why, you are. This has been the gladdest 
summer of my life. And, as for knowing how 
to sew — anybody could learn who had my 
teacher.” 

“Do you think she’ll mind my coming to the 
lesson?” 

“Oh, no! Indeed not. Joe said she told him 
that she’d be delighted. My teacher is a little 
old lady who lives under Split Rock Mountain.” 

Betty laughed at that and sang: 

There was an old woman lived under a hill, 

And, if she’s not dead, she’s living there still; 

Baked apples she sells and cranberry pies. 

And she’s the old woman who never tells lies. 


OLD WOMAN UNDER THE HILL 1^9 

Then Primrose laughed, too, harder than Betty 
had ever seen her laugh before. She could 
scarcely speak to say, “O Betty, that is so exactly 
like her I I never thought of it before. She does 
live under the hill and she is like all the rest of 
it, too. Only, instead of baked apples and pies, 
it’s pickles she sells and barrels of raw apples. 
But she never, never, never tells lies. She always 
says exactly what she thinks, whether people like 
to hear it or not. Father calls her The-Truth-the- 
Whole-Truth-and-Nothing-but-the-Truth. And as 
for ‘living there still,’ everybody has begged 
and implored her to move away from the little 
hut at the base of the hill, but she will not. She 
always says, ‘H’m. When I go away from this 
mountain I’ll have to be fetched away.’ So it’s 
quite true that ‘if she’s not dead, she’s living there 
still.’ ” 

Betty laughed with Primrose and said that she 
was very eager to see her. 

“You must not mind if she speaks rather curt- 
ly,” said Primrose. “She usually does speak so. 
And you must speak very loud, because she is 
deaf. That is one reason people wish her to 
move nearer the settlement — because she is all 
alone there and she is no longer young. But she 
will not, even in the winter. She says she has 
never been afraid, all her life, and she is cer- 


i6o THE KIND ADVENTURE 


tainly not going to begin when she’s this old, and 
has been safe all the time. She grew deaf, they 
say, from living so close to the falls and having 
their rumble and roar constantly in her ears.” 

“Really? I shouldn’t think she’d love them so 
much, then,” said Betty. “Oh, yes, I would, 
though!” she hastened to correct herself. ^Tor 
they are so lovely. And it is always so hard to 
leave them and go home again. They just seem 
to charm you, like witches in fairy tales. You 
look — and — look — and see something different 
every time.” 

“Yes, indeed,” Primrose said; “I’m glad you 
love them, too, Betty. I can understand how peo- 
ple long ago used to imagine that nymphs and 
other fairy, witching creatures lived in waterfalls. 
For they do charm and hold you, like looking in 
the firelight in winter — only much more glori- 
ous!” 

While they were praising the falls they began 
to hear them, and Betty said, “Listen ! They are 
saying, ‘Thank you for the compliment!’ ” 

As the girls came down the trail toward the 
falls it grew very steep and rocky. They had 
to move most carefully and hold on to the 
branches and even sit down and slide on the pine- 
needles in some places. 

Amico, who had followed them, as he always 


OLD WOMAN UNDER THE HILL i6i 


did, did not approve of their going that way at 
all. He barked warningly as if he objected very 
much and shook his head and ran back toward 
the road and tried his best to show them that 
there was a much easier way of going. 

“He seems to be telling us to have more sense 
and go by the road,” said Betty. 

“We usually do go by the road in the autumn,” 
said Primrose, “when the summer visitors have 
gone to their homes. But now, while they are 
here, I know my father would prefer to have me 
take ‘the untrodden ways.’ ” 

Betty said nothing. But she grew grave and 
thought, “O dear! I wonder why. There’s that 
horrid mystery again.” 

When they came to a place so slippery and 
steep that they had to go over the pine-needles on 
their hands and knees, Amico made one last stand 
against what seemed to him the little girls’ fool- 
ishness and stupidity. He expostulated with them 
as urgently as a gentleman could; then, seeing 
that it was no use, he just made up his mind to 
accept it as another example of the folly of hu- 
man beings, and followed them in silent scorn. 

The woods were full of little birds and chip- 
munks and squirrels and partridges and once 
they found the tracks of deer in the wintergreen 
vines. 


i 62 the kind adventure 


Then Primrose stopped and carefully de- 
stroyed the tracks. 

“What are you doing?” Betty asked. 

“Covering up the deer tracks. I always do, to 
keep the hunters from seeing them and following 
and killing the poor creatures. It is not the open 
season, and there is no hunting allowed. But 
there will be soon. And, anyway, covering up 
deer-tracks is a habit with me. I am always un- 
happy while there is hunting. For there is noth- 
ing so gay and gentle as a deer. And as for 
eating them — why, Betty, I’d just as soon eat 
your 

“Oh-hl Please don’t eat me. Primrose!” Betty 
begged, and that set them laughing again. 

The path went down under some dark, closely 
set fir-trees and through a damp little cavern. 
Then it made a sudden turn and came out almost 
under the falls. 

Betty gave a cry of delight. She said it was 
“very magic” to see them from behind like that. 
They were full of a million rainbows and so 
noisy that you had to shout to be heard. 

The path turned again, through a slippy, gorgy, 
rocky place and into a broad, sunny meadow, with 
lots of apple-trees in it. The meadow was sweet 
with fragrant grasses and clover. Primrose and 


OLD WOMAN UNDER THE HILL 163 

Betty each plucked a big purple clover blossom 
and sucked the honey. 

“Um-m!” said Betty. “I don’t wonder the bees 
love them. Do you?” 

“No, indeed,” answered Primrose. “We are 
like one of Shakespeare’s fairies, Betty, who said, 
‘Where the bee sips, there sip I.’ ” 

There were a great many honey-bees about and 
a beehive was set on a box under one of the 
trees. 

On the outer edge of the meadow, under the 
largest apple-tree, was a tiny house. There was 
a great big cucumber patch beside it. And all 
around the house were little stone crocks. 

“I never thought there were so many little 
crocks in the world!” Betty exclaimed. 

A little old lady in gray was busying herself 
among them. She wore a gray sunbonnet and 
moved about very quickly and sprucely. 

She could not hear the little girls coming, but 
she felt their presence and turned sharply around. 

She smiled when she saw them and came for- 
ward so briskly and was so small and sprightly 
that Betty thought she looked like one of her 
own honey-bees. It was a good thing that she 
smiled so pleasantly; otherwise Betty might have 
thought her a disagreeable person and that the 
honey-bee could sting. For her first words of 


i 64 the kind adventure 

greeting were, “How-d’ye, Blossom! You have 
a comrade, I see. Glad your foolish father has 
learned some sense at last!” 

Betty looked quickly at Primrose and was a 
little bit disappointed at first to see that Prim- 
rose was not at all angry. For Betty felt that 
she would have been very angry, indeed, if any- 
body had said anything horrid to her about her 
“Daddy.” She simply wouldn’t have let them. 

Primrose knew what Betty was thinking and 
hastened to explain, “She is really very kind, Bet- 
ty. That is just her way. My father thinks very 
highly of her. She has been a dear, good friend 
to him and to me. We understand each other.” 

The old lady was too deaf to hear what Prim- 
rose said so softly to Betty. But she must have 
felt it just the same ; for her eyes filled with happy 
tears and she stooped and kissed Primrose. She 
did not have to stoop very far, though; for she 
was not much taller than the children. 

“Come to take a lesson, have you?” she asked. 

Primrose answered in a loud voice, “Yes, 
ma’am. I got into trouble trying to make 
Father’s shirts.” 

“H’m. You got into trouble, poor child, be- 
fore you ever began to make ’em. Well, well! 
We’ll soon get the shirts straight, at least. What’s 
your friend’s name?” 


OLD WOMAN UNDER THE HILL 165 

“Elizabeth Anderson,” Betty answered for her- 
self. “But they call me Betty.” 

“I’ll call you Elizabeth. No use having a 
name if you’re called something else.” 

Betty could hardly keep from smiling as she 
thought of all the names she was called, with Bob 
and her father making up new ones every day, 
and even Mr. Garland inventing names for her. 
But she just looked demurely at the little old 
lady and said nothing. 

“Sit side by side on those two little boxes,” 
said their teacher, “and get out your sewing. I’ll 
sit on this chair before you and knit.” 

She took her knitting out of a big pocket in 
her gray apron and began at once. 

“Let’s see the shirts. Primrose. I should say 
that was a mess! Rip it all out and start over. 
What are you making, Elizabeth?” 

Betty showed her the little doiley. It was 
not very well done, she knew, and she expected 
criticism. But she was quite unprepared to have 
the old lady fold it up and put it back into the 
yellow bag and draw the strings tight. 

“What’s that bit of frippery for?” she asked, 
and before Betty could make a reply she went on, 
“To be pretty. I’ll be bound. To be pretty, eh? 
Hoity, toityl Handsome is as handsome does!” 


i66 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


and she flounced into the little house and brought 
back a bright piece of checked gingham. 

“We’ll make that into a little pair of overalls,” 
she said. “The idea of making things to put on 
tables, when poor little boys have nothing to 
wear!” 

Of course, Betty’s tender heart was touched by 
that remark. 

“What poor little boy ” she called out in- 

terestedly, bouncing up from her box. 

But the old lady cut her short, saying, “Never 
you mind. Miss Curiosity. You can do him more 
good by making his overalls than by hearing his 
business.” 

So Betty sat down meekly again. She could 
see that the old lady was not really unpleasant, 
for she always smiled right into your eyes when 
she was scolding you, and that took the sting out 
of her words. 

Primrose was glad to see that Betty understood 
and was not hurt by the old lady’s crustiness. 
“She is just like one of her sweet pickles,” she 
explained. 

The little old lady cut out the tiny overalls 
and showed Betty how to put them together. She 
was an excellent teacher, too, and Betty learned 
far more from her than she ever had at Miss 
Morgan’s sewing class in the city, Primrose was 


OLD WOMAN UNDER THE HILL 167 


made happy, too, by finding that she could save 
the shirt that the little housekeeper had been so 
much afraid she had spoiled. 

Their teacher wouldn’t let them talk at all 
while they were sewing. 

“Learn to sew in silence,” she said, “and when 
you grow up you’ll keep out of half the trouble 
there is in the world.” 

But she made them stop once in a while and 
take a run through the clover or gather and eat 
the early apples that hung ripe on the trees. 

When the long, ruddy afternoon light began 
to turn the falls into flame, she said, “Trot along, 
now. Lesson’s over.” 

As Betty said, “Thank you!” and made her 
curtsy, the old lady gave a funny little dart for- 
ward and kissed her very kindly. Then she put 
one finger under Betty’s chin and turned Betty’s 
face up and looked at her, smiling. 

“Nice, bright eyes and good manners!” she 
said. “Come again, my dear.” 

“I certainly hope I may,” Betty said to Prim- 
rose as they climbed up the hard trail together. 
“I’ve had such a funny, good afternoon.” 

“I’m so glad you liked her. She liked you, 
too, Betty. You can always tell about her, be- 
cause she says exactly what she means.” 

“Yes,” Betty laughed. “I noticed that.” 


i68 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


“Don’t bother to climb this hard, rocky, slip- 
pery trail with me, Betty. It is getting late and 
it would be much shorter for you to go home by 
the road.” 

“Hoity, toity!” said Betty in pleasant imita- 
tion of their teacher. “I came with you. Miss, 
and I’m going back with you. As if I’d let you 
go back alone. Primrose!” 

At the top of the trail they bade each other 
good-bye and Betty went happily down the Job 
Road, swinging “Sunshine” and thinking of her 
interesting new acquaintance. 

“Robert was right when he said that people 
can be judged much more by what they do than 
by what they say,” she thought. “Won’t Rob- 
ert laugh when he gets my letter about the sewing 
lesson? I must write to-morrow morning, before 
I forget any of the things the old lady said. I 
do hope I can remember them all. I’m going to 
begin my letter by asking, ‘Do you need any over- 
alls, Bud?’ I hope Bob will be glad he has such 
a useful sister Elizabeth.” 

And Betty finished her pleasant afternoon with 
little chuckles of laughter. 


CHAPTER XIII 


WHAT TIM ANDREWS KNEW 

TJETTY decided to delight The Old Woman 
Who Lived Under the Hill by making a lit- 
tle suit of overalls, all by herself, and bringing 
them to her for the poor little boy in whom she 
was interested. 

Mrs. Anderson bought the gingham for her in 
Elizabethtown. 

“Please be sure to get blue,” Betty directed, 
“for it just simply must be Little Boy Blue for 
whom The Old Woman Who Lives Under the 
Hill makes clothes. Really, Mother, I shouldn’t 
be surprised to meet Bo-Peep, or any of them, at 
her house. Only Bo-Peep couldn’t lose her sheep 
in this valley, when Rover and Dewey and all 
the other lovely shepherd-dogs are around. I 
saw one of the dogs drive the cows into a farm- 
yard, the other afternoon, and then stand across 
the opening and make himself into a gate to keep 
them in, until the farmer came to close the real 
gate. And you can always tell when it’s five 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


170 

o’clock by seeing the big collie down the road 
dart up the hillside for his cows. I’m sure Bo- 
Peep would have been perfectly safe if Rover 
had been there. He guards his sheep so well and 
they obey him perfectly. You won’t forget the 
gingham for the overalls, will you, Mother dear?” 

Mrs. Anderson did not forget it. 

She helped Betty cut out the little garment 
and directed the making. Betty was so interested 
in her work, and overalls are so easy to make, 
that they were soon completed. 

One morning Betty started down the road with 
great pride in her heart and the well-made little 
overalls in a neat package under her arm. 

It did not take her so long this time to go to 
the little house under Split Rock Mountain, for 
she did not take the steep trail, but went along 
the road. This was a walk that Betty loved so 
well that often, in the winter at home, she used 
to shut her eyes and say, “Now I’ll walk from 
the Inn to the falls,” and do so in her memory. 
The road went alongside of the little river and 
underneath the heavy trees when it was not cross- 
ing flowery meadows. 

The little Old Woman was not at home when 
Betty arrived at the cottage, so she sat down on 
a stone beside the falls to wait. 

Betty kept thinking how surprised Primrose’s 


WHAT TIM ANDREWS KNEW 171 


sewing teacher would be and how pleased when 
she saw the overalls. So she kept on waiting, 
instead of leaving the little package at the door, 
as she might safely have done; for she wanted to 
see the Old Woman open it. 

“She will laugh and say pleasant things. I’m 
sure,” thought Betty. 

At last she saw the Old Woman coming down 
a little hillock, with a basketful of big blackber- 
ries out of her famous patch. Of course, polite 
little Betty hastened to meet her and take the 
basket from her, and carry it into the house. 

The Old Woman looked quite alarmed when 
she saw Betty and asked at once, “Anything the 
matter with Primrose?” 

Betty shook her head and shouted, “No! No!” 

“What brings you here, Elizabeth?” asked the 
Old Woman, when they reached her cottage. 

Betty thought this was scarcely the usual form 
of welcome, but she said, “I’ll show you!” and 
opened her little bundle with great pride and 
showed her hostess the overalls. 

The Old Woman Under the Hill looked at her 
and at them with twinkling eyes; but all she said 
was, “Thank you !” 

Betty could not help feeling a little bit disap- 
pointed at that. She had been so sure that the 
Old Woman would say something agreeable about 


172 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


her workmanship and her thoughtfulness. She 
could not help letting a shade of her disappoint- 
ment cross her face. 

The Old Woman saw it and said, smilingly, 
“Come, now! Don’t spoil doing-right by want- 
ing to be praised for it.” 

Betty laughed, but she blushed too. For she 
knew that it was a fault of hers to think too 
much about being praised and loved for what 
she did. 

“Do you know what is the best reward for do- 
ing kindnesses for folks?” asked the Old Woman. 
She went on without waiting for Betty to reply. 
“The best reward for doing what’s right is get- 
ting in the habit of itP^ she said. “Come again 1 
Come again!” 

Betty saw that she was busy, so she made her 
little curtsy and left her. When she was just 
turning beyond the trees at the spot where the 
road bent away from the Old Woman’s meadow, 
she heard someone calling, “Hi! Hi!” She 
looked back and saw The Old Woman Who 
Lived Under the Hill standing on a rock and 
calling after her. 

As she saw Betty about to return, she cried out, 
“Don’t come back; listen! Of course, I am glad, 
you know. Very!” And she threw Betty a num- 
ber of kisses, which surprised her most of all. 


WHAT TIM ANDREWS KNEW 173 

When Betty returned to the little hotel she 
found her father seated on the grass, with a book, 
under the big apple tree that gave Apple Tree 
Inn its name. She sat beside him and told him 
all about her morning’s experience. Mr. Ander- 
son laughed heartily. 

“She is very wise, your little Old Woman,” 
said he. “And very tender-hearted, too. I’m 
thinking, for all her sharpness of manner. Are 
you not going up the mountain to Primrose’s to- 
day?” 

“I just can’t go yet,” said Betty. “It is the 
day for Robert’s letter and it did not come in 
the regular mail this morning, and I just have 
to wait until the Althorpes drive back from the 
village to see if they are bringing it. They’d 
hurry up if they knew how terribly anxious I am 
to learn whether Tim Andrews told the Candors 
anything important. I’ve just nearly perished, all 
this week, about it. It’s been so exciting. I don’t 
know what I’d have done without my overalls to 
occupy my mind, when I was not at Primrose’s. 
Oh I Why don’t the Althorpes hurry up?” 

“Perhaps they had some little thing of their 
own to attend to,” suggested her father with a 
smile. 

“You’re teasing!” said Betty reproachfully. 
“They don’t know how important my letter is — 


174 the kind adventure 

for, of course, I haven’t told anybody here about 
the Candors. Except Primrose — for she’s my 
best friend and I knew Bob was willing I” 

“That was quite right, dear,” said her father. 
“I’m glad my little daughter’s tongue is not hung 
in the middle and loose at both ends like some 
maidens’.” 

“Oh, yes I” said Betty. “I did tell Joe Silver 
about Captain Candor and Bob in the storm. But 
that wasn’t a sacred other-folks’-businessy thing; 
was it. Daddy?” 

“No, indeed. And, of course, we had to boast 
about our splendid brother to somebody,** said 
Mr. Anderson, pinching her cheek. “Was Joe 
very much excited over Robert’s heroism?” 

“Well, you know. Father, nothing could really 
excite Joe. Now, could it?” 

“Not very much. Once, they say, Joe killed a 
very dangerous bear in the mountains at the risk 
of his life and when he came back with the pelt 
and all the boys in the hotel ran around him ask- 
ing to be told all about it, Joe Silver just said 
quietly, ‘I shot him. There’s his pelt. And that*s 
all about it.’ ” 

“Well, I didn’t expect him to be excited about 
Bob’s storm,” said Betty, “and I was not dis- 
appointed at all when he only said, ‘Goo-o-dl’ 
Besides, I could see that he was pleased. And 


WHAT TIM ANDREWS KNEW 175 

that night he brought me two Indian arrow- 
heads he had found and said I should give them 
to my brother. Oh ! I hear a horse I Oh I It is 
the AlthorpesI Here they cornel’* and Betty ran 
forward, shouting eagerly, “Is there a letter for 
me. Miss Connie?” 

She gave a whoop of delight when Miss Con- 
nie held one high in answer. She was so excited 
that she did not mind stern Mrs. Althorpe’s dis- 
approving frown, but jumped up on the carriage 
block to get her precious letter at the first possi- 
ble moment. 

“Oh, joy! It’s a big, fat one, tool Thank 
you. Miss Connie — and Mrs. Althorpel” and 
Betty darted back to her grassy seat beside her 
father under the big apple-tree and read: 

Cape Wildwind, August 27th. 
Betty Bright-E yes-and-N ice-Manners, 

I like your Old Woman Who Lives Under the 
Hill very much. And Mother Candor does too. 

And if I am to belong to this family of sailors 
I shall probably have need of overalls very soon. 
So I’m glad to have such a useful sister Eliza- 
beth. 

Dear Mother Candor was in such a fever of 
anxiety, waiting for Tim Andrews to be well 
enough to bear questioning, that I thought it best 


176 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

to get her away from the house as often as I 
could. And the good Captain, too; for he was 
as restless as she, for all his calm and quiet man- 
ner. 

So whenever the sewing-club daughter took her 
turn at sitting with Tim, I bore the old folks off 
for a jaunt in The Violet Dawn. 

I found a good assistant, too. I’ll tell you 
about him. 

One day we set sail over a sea as smooth as 
crystal and as full of lovely changing reflections. 
There was just about enough wind to keep the 
little boat gently going. As we rounded the 
Point, very slowly, a boy called out, “Ahoy! Cap- 
tain Candor!” from the shore. A dumpy, brown- 
cheeked boy with flashing teeth and a cheery man- 
ner. He had on shabby old clothes, as neat and 
shining with cleanness as the sandy beach itself. 

“There’s Ronald Roberts,” said the Captain, as 
he waved to the boy. “And I’m afraid he was 
going to our house. Hey ! Ron ! Were you head- 
ed for our harbor?” 

“Yes, sir; I was. But that’s all right. I can 
come another day.” 

“Not a bit of it, lad. We’ll come in to shore 
for you. You come with us. You can hold the 
rations on your lap if you’re crowded.” 


WHAT TIM ANDREWS KNEW 177 

So we took the nice boy on a little tour and 
picnic beyond the Point. 

He was a little shy with me at first, but soon 
warmed up when he learned that I had been to 
college. He Is working hard that he may go 
there, too, some day. His father is a minister 
over at Lawrence Beach and Ronald has to earn 
enough money to pay his own way, if he Is to 
have a college education. 

“A good thing, perhaps,” said the Captain, 
seeking for a silver lining. “It will make him 
appreciate his education all the more.” 

But Ron laughed and said, “Honest, Captain, I 
don’t see how anything can, I want to go so mucH 
already.” 

Ron’s father, whom everyone hereabouts calls 
the Dominie and loves dearly, had sent him over 
to be of whatever service he could to the Can- 
dors while Tim was 111 at their house. So the boy 
asked me — when he could get me away from the 
others, as we prepared luncheon In the woods — 
what I thought he could do. “For I’d love to be 
of use to them, if I can,” he said. “Nobody can 
know what good friends they’ve been to us. Why, 
the Captain even wanted to take charge of my 
education. But Father thought It was better for 
us to try to do It ourselves.” 

So I told him to help me keep them diverted 


178 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


and away from their eager anxiety, and he did, 
like a good one. He has been a fine lieutenant, 
and I have grown very fond of him. 

We had a boys’ boat race and the Captain was 
the judge. That interested and excited him. And 
he certainly was tickled because Ron won it in 
his old boat, the Dominie, through his superior 
seamanship, though some of the other boats, be- 
longing to wealthy summer boarders, made his 
old tub look like a farm wagon among automo- 
biles. But that is just like Ron. 

He interested some of his girl friends, too, and 
they got up an old-fashioned oyster-fry party and 
put it in Mother Candor’s capable hands to man- 
age. That kept her busy and bustling. 

So the time passed until — until — Oh I I write 
in as bouncy a state as dear chum Betty herself 
could achieve — until Tim Andrews spoke. 

We have gotten just a little, little way on the 
trail of John Candor^ s child! We are beginning 
to hope at last! 

That is, I dare hope, and Mother Candor al- 
ways hopes. The Captain urges caution and tells 
us not to be too expectant. He says they have 
been disappointed so often when they thought 
they were really about to make a discovery, that 
he has schooled himself against too much hope. 

“You see,” he whispered to me, “these dis- 


WHAT TIM ANDREWS KNEW 179 

appointments are very bad for Mother. I have 
to shield her from them.” 

But listen, comrade, and see if you can keep 
from hoping. 

When we came back from our cruise with Ron, 
day before yesterday, the day of the race, the 
good doctor met us at the landing. 

“I saw you coming,” said he to the Candors, 
“and I just had to meet you. For I found my 
patient much better to-day and I think you may 
question him, Mrs. Candor, in a very few days 
more. I wanted to give you the news myself.” 

Everybody loves Mother and Captain Candor 
so heartily that their joys and sorrows seem the 
family property of the neighborhood. 

Well, Big Tim got better yesterday and talked 
just like anybody, and to-day his big, beauteous 
smile is beaming on every one. 

So this morning, by the doctor’s permission. 
Mother Candor asked him about John. Nobody 
was allowed in the room during the interview 
except the doctor — to stop the questioning, if it 
seemed to hurt his patient and to take care of 
Mother Candor in case any severe shock came 
to her. The Captain waited in the next room and 
I stayed with him. 

I never admired Captain Candor so much. 
When I was so anxious and excited it was easy 


i8o THE KIND ADVENTURE 


to imagine what he must have been; but he kept 
his calm manner and spoke cheerfully of other 
things — only pressing my hand now and then as 
a sign of our understanding. Once, indeed, his 
eyes filled with tears. He was not ashamed of 
them, but went on frankly to explain their cause. 

“I was thinking,” said he, “how different John 
was from most men. Loving the sea and the mer- 
chant marine interests as he did and liking the 
rough life on the ocean better than any other sort 
of living, it was wonderful how book-learned he 
was — always learning the languages of the coun- 
tries he visited and studying their history and 
reading their literatures and loving fine, beauti- 
ful things. And always speaking so gently, yet 
making his men obey him just as if he had been 
bluff to them! Somebody asked him once how 
a man so fond of fineness and beauty could fol- 
low the sea, and John said he thought the sea 
was the most beautiful thing of all. Maybe it 
is, too. Maybe ’tis.” 

After a while the doctor beckoned to Captain 
Candor and he went in to Mother Candor and 
Tim. And I went home, for I felt it was not a 
time for the intrusion of my interest. 

But bless their dear old hearts 1 If they didn’t 
telephone to me to come right back after lunch- 
eon, that all their “other children” were coming 


WHAT TIM ANDREWS KNEW i8i 


then, to hear the news about John’s child, and 
they wanted me to be among them. I felt it was 
just the sweetest compliment that ever came to 
me. 

And here is the news my anxious, jumping 
Betty has been waiting for. 

Tim Andrews had been in the very wreck in 
which John Candor had lost his life. He said 
John had been very brave and heroic; and I can 
well believe it. The wreck had taken place off 
the coast of Spain and Tim himself had been 
rescued with difficulty and lay long in a little Span- 
ish town very ill, indeed. As soon as he was well 
enough he had thought of poor John Candor’s 
wife and baby. John had told him where they 
were to have met him, and, of course, he had 
often spoken of Mother Candor and the Captain 
too. 

Tim wrote to the Candors, he said, and told 
them where the little family was to be found, but 
he was not surprised that the letter had never 
reached them. “For,” he said, with his lovely 
smile, ‘Tm not a bit an educated man, like John 
Candor was, and most of my writing is so hard 
to read, and so likely to be mixed up, that many 
of my letters go wrong even in my own country, 
let alone a little village in Pointevedra, where 
this was posted.” 


i 82 the kind adventure 


Among the things that had been saved from 
the wreck was John Candor’s box of clothes and 
belongings. There was nothing of great value 
in it, but as Tim went reverently through his dead 
friend’s possessions, he came across a little blue 
Bible that was wrapped in tissue paper as if if 
were carefully treasured. 

It was a very hard moment for Mother Can- 
dor when they came to this part of the telling, 
for she had given the little book to John when 
he was a very young fellow going on his first voy- 
age. 

Tim left John’s box in care of the Spanish fam- 
ily who had taken care of him, but he decided 
to take the Bible to John’s wife and baby, who 
were waiting at a little English sea-coast town. 

He thought it too sacred a thing to send, and 
besides he wanted to see if he could be of any 
use to them. That’s the sort of a friend Tim- 
othy Andrews is I 

But when he reached the little English village 
he learned from a kind woman who had been their 
neighbor that John’s young wife had died. The 
neighbor had taken care of the sweet little baby 
girl until the mother of John’s wife came to get 
it. This grandmother was an American woman 
living in London. Timothy asked her name and 
address, as he wanted to go to see her and take 


WHAT TIM ANDREWS KNEW 183 

the little Bible to John’s baby. But the kind 
neighbor advised him not to do so. She said she 
did not think that the young wife’s mother would 
have been very glad to see him, as she had never 
wished her daughter to marry a sailor — you see, 
she did not understand what a fine, good, culti- 
vated man John Candor was — and was not in- 
clined to be forgiving to John or her daughter 
or pleasant to their friends. But this kind neigh- 
bor undertook to get the Bible to John Candor’s 
baby and to inform the baby’s grandmother of 
the whereabouts of John’s box in Spain. She said 
she felt sure that the grandmother would care- 
fully keep the Bible and give it to John’s daughter 
when she grew big enough to cherish it, for she 
seemed to be a person who was just and good, al- 
though a little hard and unforgiving. 

Tim thought then that he had done all that 
he could. He had heard no more of John Can- 
dor’s child until just a year ago. Then, finding 
himself near the same small town in Pointevedra, 
he returned there to see and thank the Spanish 
peasants who had been so kind to the shipwrecked 
sailors — he certainly is a gentleman, is Timothy 
Andrews, even if he cannot write clearly — and 
they gave him some interesting news. They said 
that a few years before a charming young girl 
had come to see them. She said that she was 


i 84 the kind adventure 

John Candor’s daughter and that she wanted the 
box full of his possessions that they had kept 
for her for so many years. 

Alas! Tim did not ask her name or her ad- 
dress. “Miss Candor, Europe,” is not very defi- 
nite, is it? 

So it all seems baffling enough to me, even 
though I am hopeful. But to Mother Candor it 
has given new hope in a tremendous degree. She 
says they have at least something to go on — the 
first definite bit of news. And that makes her 
take hope that they may soon learn all. Mother 
Candor is perfectly sure that her boy’s baby still 
lives and will be found and will love her. “I can 
feel it,” she says. 

The Candors are hopeful for another reason, 
too. The family has commissioned Timothy An- 
drews, as soon as he is well enough, to go hunting 
for John’s daughter or for news of her. They are 
to pay him well, so that he can give all his time 
to it and run down every clew and do nothing else. 
Tim is as eager as they are and would gladly go 
for nothing if he could afford to do so. In the 
meantime the Captain’s son, the Mayor, has writ- 
ten to the kindly English neighbor, asking for the 
address to which she sent the little blue Bible so 
long ago, and to the Spanish family, asking for 
the address to which the box was sent last year. 


WHAT TIM ANDREWS KNEW 185 

They scarcely dare hope that they will remember 
the addresses, but still they do hope it eagerly. 

And this is my news, Betty. I am sure you are 
opening your big eyes over it, and I am sure they 
are swimming in sad-and-happy tears. Bless your 
sympathetic soul! Let us hope too. For here 
are love and friendship united on this search for 
John’s daughter. How can two such great forces 
fail to find her whether it be on earth or in 
heaven? 

Your Big Brother Bob. 

Betty’s eyes were full of tears, just as Robert 
had predicted, as she put down the letter, and 
there was a bright red spot in each of her cheeks. 

Mr. Anderson had read the letter with her. 
He kept saying all the time, “Keep cool, little 
daughter; do!” 

“Oh, I can’t help being excited !” Betty gasped. 
“Oh, I do hope it will really be the beginning of 
finding the Candors’ grandchild! I feel sure it 
will, just as Mother Candor does. I believe in 
her feelings, too. I know all about that, for 
I remember. Father, that night when you and 
Mother had lost your way in the woods up Deer 
Mountain and did not come down until long after 
supper time and they were getting up parties to 
look for you, and the maids told me lots of fright- 


i86 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


ening things, and, of course, I was dreadfully 
alarmed and could not help crying — all the time 
there was a little voice in my heart saying, ‘It’s all 
right, Betty. They’ve found the trail. They’ll 
be home pretty soon.’ And, after a while, I just 
had to believe it and I wasn’t really scared through 
at all. And soon you and Mother did come. I 
guess that’s just about how Mother Candor feels. 
I wish I could kiss her and tell her about it.” 

“Well, kiss me, Miss Greatheart,” said her 
father, “and let us trust and pray.” 

“Oh, I do. Daddy dear. I’m sure they will find 
her — though Europe is a pretty big place, I know. 
I always think so in geography class, anyway,” 
said Betty, dimpling. “I only hope that Tim An- 
drews is better at finding places on the map than 
I am.” 


CHAPTER XIV 


BETTY MAKES UP HER MIND 

Betty had folded up Bob’s letter and 
^ ^ put It in the pocket of her middy suit, Mr. 
Anderson expected her to kiss him good-bye and 
fly away, as usual. 

But, instead of that, Betty kept sitting soberly 
beside him on the grass. Her father could see 
that there was something on her mind. So he 
put down his book and smiled at her invitingly. 

“Let’s go up into the summer-house and have 
a ‘chin’ where we won’t be disturbed — eh, Betty?” 
he said. 

“You dearf” replied Betty. “You knew I 
v/anted one; didn’t you?” 

They climbed up the sand-hill back of the 
house and went into the little summer-house. It 
was lovely there; you could see down a wonder- 
ful aisle of mountains. And it was secluded too 
— a capital place for confidences. 

Mr. Anderson took Betty on his lap and said, 
“Fire away, little woman I” 

187 


i88 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


“Father,” said Betty then, “do you know about 
a little girl named Balaustion — in a poem by Mr. 
Browning?” 

“Yes, dear,” Mr. Anderson answered in some 
surprise. 

“Well, IVe got to be as brave as she was. Be- 
cause I have something terribly hard to do.” 

“What is it, dear? Can’t Daddy help?” 

“I hope you can. Daddy. That’s what I have 
to speak to you about. It’s very, very important. 
It’s about Primrose. You see. Bob and I made 
a plan to be helpful to somebody this summer 
and Bob found the Candors and has done just 
heaps for them. And Joe found Primrose for 
me, and I love her so much. But, you see. Father, 
Joe thinks I haven’t really done anything to help 
Primrose. He thinks that she will be sadder 
than ever and lonesomer when I’ve gone, and that 
I haven’t done anything at all really-truly to help 
her. And I can see that he is right. And Joe 
thinks that the only thing that will really-truly 
help Primrose is to go back to living like other 
people and see other girls and go to school — 
and all. And he thinks I ought to help her to do 
that. And I’d love to. And so I’ve been think- 
ing and thinking, and praying too. It’s a very 
hard thing for a little girl to do — to help get the 
Garlands off the mountain.” 


BETTY MAKES UP HER MIND 189 


“I should say so,” Mr. Anderson agreed. He 
thought it was almost an impossible thing, but he 
was wise enough not to say so and discourage 
his little daughter in her kindly intention. For 
Re knew that nothing that is good is really im- 
possible. 

“But, then,” Betty went on, “Balaustion was 
only a little girl too and she saved big warriors 
and many people much more powerful than she 
was. Sometimes, though, I get scared and think 
it’s no use and that I’m silly to try. But once Miss 
Connie Althorpe said that faith and love could 
do anything, provided they are unselfish. And 
I feel surely sure I have them both.” 

“I believe you have, indeed, my Bettykins.” 

“Well, then — here goes. Daddy I I’ve got to 
ask you to help me right now. I can’t wait any 
longer — ^because I’ve got my courage up now; and 
it isn’t very strong in its spine. It’s beginning to 
wobble already.” 

“Ask me what, childy?” 

“Father, please don’t think it’s curiosity or 
meddlesomeness or not minding what Mother says 
about other folks’ secrets. But I cannot find any 
way to help the Garlands unless I know more 
about them and what makes them stay ’way up 
there and ” 

“So you want me to tell you?” 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


190 

“If you can, without betraying a trust, Daddy. 
If you don’t think I am too little to know and 
to help.” 

Mr. Anderson sat thinking a long, long time. 
He stroked Betty’s curls but said nothing except 
murmurings and the beginnings of sentences like, 

“It would be a wonderful thing if you could ” 

and, “There may be serious consequences either 

way ” and, “After all, have I any right ” 

Then he sat silent a long time more and thought 
deeply. 

Betty tried to be patient but she couldn’t help 
giving one of her little bounces and that brought 
him to with a start. 

Then he said very seriously, “I’m sorry, dear. 
I hate to disappoint you. Oh, don’t look so for- 
lorn, Betty! Listen to Father. You see, my dear, 
it is not my secret, but Mr. Garland’s. He con- 
fided it to me. If he had intended you to know, 
doubtless he would have directed me to tell you. 
I hate to disappoint my girl in her friendly and 
kind effort, but I have no choice. No one has any 
choice about other folks’ confidence. It cannot 
be betrayed, even though it may seem wise to do 
so. You see, Mr. Garland trusted me not to 
tell anybody ” 

Betty’s eyes clouded with tears a little and 
her father comforted her. 


BETTY MAKES UP HER MIND 191 

‘T know you must be right; you always are/’ 
she said sadly, “but I did so hope you could help 
me help the Garlands!” 

“So sorry, Betty!” 

“Isn’t there anyone who can tell me?” 

“No one, I fear, except Mr. Garland himself. 
It’s his secret, you know.” 

“O dear!” Betty sighed. “Joe Silver will be 
so disappointed in me. What will Joe Silver 
say?” 

While Betty was asking that question about 
Joe Silver the answer to it flashed into her mind. 
She trembled and opened her eyes wide and said 
in a scared tone, “Daddy!” 

“Yes, dear?” 

“I know what Joe Silver would say if he heard 
that no one could tell me except Mr. Garland. 
Joe would probably say, ‘We-ell?’ and by that 
he would mean that, if nobody but Mr. Garland 
could tell me, I must ask Mr, Garland himself! 
But — oh! — Father — I couldn’t! Do you think I 
ever could?” 

“Well, think it over, honey. And I’ll think it 
over too.” 

“Yes, Father. But I don’t think any girl, even 
Balaustion herself, could be brave enough for 
that.” 


192 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

“Well, do not fret about it, dear. Perhaps 
we’ll find a way.” 

“I’ll try not to fret. Now I must run and 
wash for luncheon. And this afternoon Primrose 
and I are going for watercresses; that will keep 
me from fretting. I love to go for cresses. You 
have to wade in the brook, instead of asking per- 
mission as a favor of your elders,” Betty 
chuckled roguishly; “and you roll up your skirts 
— ’way up — and look like those pictures of glean- 
ers and diggers and workers by Mr. Millet that 
you always say ‘celebrate the dignity of labor.’ 
But there isn’t much dignity to it when Primrose 
and I do it — and not very much labor either. Just 
fun. Primrose says she doesn’t enjoy it nearly 
as much without me. So maybe I am some good 
to her I” and Betty gave a little sigh. 

As she went up to Primrose’s the mountain air 
was so sweet and so full of life and vigor, and 
the little yellow birds darted by so gaily and 
the brook laughed so hard that Betty forgot her 
perplexity. She went on singing a little air that 
she was learning to play on Mr. Shiver Strings. 

She hurried through the hidden trail, for she 
feared to be late, and kept thinking of the little 
tune all the time. That was why she did not see 
The Old Woman Who Lived Under the Hill until 
she bumped right into her. 


BETTY MAKES UP HER MIND 193 

The Old Woman had an empty basket on her 
arm. It was stained with blackberry juice and 
Betty guessed at once that she had been bringing 
Primrose the big berries from her blackberry 
patch that she had just been gathering when Betty 
called on her that morning. 

She was very pleasant when Betty begged par- 
don for bumping into her, and said, “All right! 
All right! Little stones rolling downhill never see 
what’s in their way; and you were going uphill 
just like a little stone goes down.” 

Betty laughed at that. She thought it very 
funny to be called a little stone. The Old Woman 
laughed too — a short, sharp little laugh. Betty 
thought it sounded something like the way a 
puppy barks when it is gay. 

But then the Old Woman grew very grave 
and said, “Come here, Elizabeth. I’ve something 
to say to you.” 

Betty came quite close, for she could see it was 
a secret by the way the Old W’^oman looked care- 
fully around before speaking. She wondered 
very much what the Old Woman could wish to say 
to her. 

The Old Woman Who Lived Under the Hill 
took Betty’s face between her hands — and how 
they did smell of pickle vinegar! — and looked 
earnestly into Betty’s eyes and said, “Elizabeth, 


194 the kind adventure 

Joe Silver told me all about you. He said you 
are his hope. I don’t know but you are mine 
too. You look like a Can Person. Everybody is 
either a Can Person or a Can’t Person. Try not 
to disappoint us.” 

Betty started to speak to her very eagerly. She 
knew that the Old Woman meant she expected 
Betty to do something to get Primrose and Mr. 
Garland to leave the mountain; and Betty hoped 
that she might give her some advice that she so 
needed. 

But the Old Woman shook her head quickly 
and put her finger on her lips and said, “Not a 
word! Not a word I The thing to do after you 
hear a warning like mine is not to talk but to 
think r* And she hurried away without even stop- 
ping to say “good-bye.” 

Betty certainly did think. How could she dare 
ask Mr. Garland to take her into his confidence. 
Just a little girl! She was sure she could not. 

Soon Amico’s cheerful bark and Primrose’s 
glad, “Here comes Betty!” dispelled her care. 
Primrose was carrying two big rush baskets, one 
of which she gave to Amico. At a word from 
her he rushed forward and gave it to Betty. And 
Betty was so accustomed to making her little 
curtsy when she said “Thank you,” that she for- 
got and made one to Amico! 


BETTY MAKES UP HER MIND 195 

“Well, anyway,” she said laughingly, “I have 
curtsied to lots of people who were not nearly 
as polite as Amico.” 

“Oh, Amico can bow, too !” said Primrose. 

“You mean bow-wow,” teased Betty. 

“Just see, then!” said Primrose proudly. “Sa- 
lute like a soldier!” she commanded. 

Amico rose up on his hind legs and touched 
his head with one of his forepaws in quite a mili- 
tary manner. 

“Salute like a civilian!” she said then; and 
Amico gave little short careless nods in every di- 
rection. 

Betty was delighted. “He is the most wonder- 
ful dog!” she said admiringly. “He knows so 
many things. Every day I find out something 
else that he can do. He’s just like you in that, 
Primrose.” 

“Well, you see,” Primrose said archly, 
“Father teaches us both new tricks all the winter.” 

The rush baskets were lined with soft, moist 
leaves and there was a sharp little knife in the 
bottom of each basket. 

Primrose led the way up the brookside, farther 
up than Betty had ever been before. The brook 
grew very narrow and much quieter and slower. 
It became so peaceful and rill-like that, even in 
the steep places where the cascades were, it 


196 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

seemed to glide down instead of dashing and 
flashing. Every little while it made a calm, deep 
pool. And the pools were green with great, lus- 
cious emerald cresses. 

The little girls took off their shoes and stock- 
ings and pinned back their frocks and waded in 
and cut. off the cresses with their sharp little 
knives. Amico stayed on the shore and guarded 
the baskets, which were soon filled high. Then 
they gathered sweet fern and covered the cresses 
with them to guard them from the sun. 

“Now, when Joe comes for these and takes 
them down to the Inn to-night, I am sure they 
will give satisfaction,” said Primrose. “I al- 
ways try to get the very best I can, because they 
pay so generously for them,” added the honest 
little merchant. 

Betty said, “I certainly shall feel queer when 
they come on the table and everybody praises 
them — they always do praise them. Primrose — 
to think that I gathered some of them and that 
not a soul there knows it.” 

That set Betty thinking again of the strange 
secrecy and of her problem. All the time, while 
they were putting on their stockings and shoes 
and while they were going carefully back toward 
Primrose’s with their baskets of cress, Betty’s 
mind kept asking over and over the same ques- 


BETTY MAKES UP HER MIND 197 

tion, “How can I ask Mr. Garland? O dear! I 
wonder if I can be brave enough 1 ” 

Primrose noticed that Betty’s thoughts were 
wandering and asked her, “Why do you seem so 
distraught, Betty?” 

Betty answered, “Primrose, if that big word 
you just used jmeans ‘distracted,’ it’s just what I 
am. I am thinking about you, dear, and wish- 
ing that, before I leave you this fall ” 

Primrose held out her hands as if to ward off a 
blow and cried out, “Oh! Don’t! Pray don’t, 
Betty! Please, please do not speak about the time 
when you must leave me.” Her eyes were brim- 
ming with tears and she went on to say, very 
humbly, “Forgive my crying. I know I am a 
bad, ungrateful girl and I will be all right in 
a minute. But I just can’t bear to think of the 
end of the season and of — of your leaving me. 
I just cannot bear it. Every night I ask for 
strength not to think of it in bed and cry. For 
it’s wrong and it would make dear Father suffer 
deeply, if he knew. But you are so very dear 
to me, Betty, and I shall be so lonely without 
you !” 

Betty thought it best to change the subject, so 
she did as quickly as she could; and very soon 
the little girls were laughing again. 

But deep in her heart she knew now that Joe 


198 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

Silver was right! She knew for a certainty that, 
unless she could get the Garlands to leave the 
mountain, Primrose would be sadder and not 
happier for having known her. 

“It’s the only way that I can do anything 
real for her,” she thought as she went home- 
ward. “The only way is to help her down into 
living like other people. But first I must know 
why they have to stay up there. It’s lovely in 
summer. But when the snow is so high that they 
have to dig their way out of the cottage and 
nobody comes up all winter long, except Joe — it 
must be mighty lonely for a little girl!” 

Betty thought of her own happy, busy winters, 
of school and Sunday-school and dancing-school 
and sewing lessons and music and skating in the 
Park and coasting with her friends who lived in 
the suburbs and the gay little visits on Satur- 
days and the Hippodrome and an occasional 
matinee, and candy pulls and parties and all the 
fun and excitement of Christmas and New Year’s. 
Then came the image of Primrose, snowbound in 
her little mountain cottage, with the blizzard 
whirling around, and thinking longingly of 
Betty! 

Betty stood still in her well-loved clearing by 
the little ruined hut and looked off toward the 
setting sun. 


BETTY MAKES UP HER MIND 199 

Something firm and strong and brave seemed 
to grow in her heart. 

“I’m going to try!” said Betty. 

She felt better then and ran home quickly. 

Her father was on the porch writing. 

“Father,” she cried, “I have made up my mind I 
I am going to try to ask Mr. Garland.” 

“Ah! Brave little Betty!” he said tenderly. 
“So you are grimly determined?” 

“Well — not quite that. Daddy. I’ve made up 
my mind I would try to speak to Mr. Garland 
and ask for his confidence. I did not promise 
myself I would do it, because I’m not a bit sure 
that I can, and I always feel so babyish when 
I make myself promises and do not keep them. 
But I promised myself I would try hard . — ^Are 
you writing to Brother Bob, Father?” 

“Yes, dear.” 

Mr. Anderson had already been telling Robert 
about Betty’s deeply felt problem concerning her 
friends on the mountain. So he merely added 
the line, “Betty has just come in, aglow with 
devotion and decision. She says she has made 
up her mind to try.” 


CHAPTER XV 


BETTY BALAUSTION 

Tl^HEN Robert got his father’s letter, you 
^ ^ may be sure he was proud of his small 
sister. He wrote to her immediately, for he 
knew that she was always encouraged and helped 
in her problems by her big brother’s sympathy 
and guidance. And the present perplexity was 
not one of the usual little problems, but a very 
great one for a small girl to handle. 

Robert had interesting news of his own as 
well, so he hastened to write to Betty: 

Cape Wildwind^ Sept. 2nd. 

My girl, 

Bless your kind heart! I think Father is right 
and Joe Silver is right and you are right, and, as 
they say in The Mikado, “all is right as right 
can be.” 

Do the brave thing, my dear. That’s always 
likely to be the winner. Do you remember, last 
winter, when I was designing a house for that 


200 


BETTY BALAUSTION 


201 


wonderfully rich and powerful gentleman, and 
Father said he recalled him as a boy — a very poor 
and commonplace boy, whom nobobdy expected 
much of? Father said that he had made his 
fortune honestly and kindly and deserved the 
success he had won, but his old friends could not 
conceal their astonishment. Well, when I was 
in his office talking about the plans for the house 
I saw something that explained a lot to me. In 
a little frame, far back on his desk, were two 
quotations in his own handwriting. One read: 

Great Men Have Purposes; Others Have 
Wishes. 

And the other said : 

Do THE Thing You Are Afraid to Do. 

I know now why he succeeded so well. 

The hard problems in life need only character; 
and I am sure that my Betty has heaps of that. 

But I am sure, my dear, that you need not 
be afraid; for, whether Mr. Garland tells you 
his secret or not, he must certainly appreciate and 
understand your loving interest. You will find it 
all easier than you think; I am sure of that. 

Speaking of character, you ought to see Mother 
Candor going on with her sweet and happy living 
and not letting her eagerness and anxiety about 


202 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


the search for her granddaughter interfere with 
her cheerful service to every one around her. 

Big Tim went away yesterday on his voyage 
of discovery; I hope and pray it will be a voyage 
of discovery. 

We planned — Ron and I — a pretty surprise. 
You’ll have to tell your friend Amico about it; 
I’ll show you why in a minute. 

I shall have to let you into the secret far 
enough to tell you that there has been a dog 
and pony show exhibiting down in the town and 
that the Candors had not heard of it, being so 
intent upon their own affairs just now. 

Just as Mother and Captain Candor stood 
at the door with Big Tim, waiting for the buggy 
in which they were going to escort him to the 
train, a little black poodle, all frilled and “cocky,” 
suddenly darted out from behind the tall wind- 
break hedge. 

As soon as he caught their attention he stood 
on his hind legs and made a bow like a little 
man and began to waltz. 

The Candors suspected me at once, they said 
afterward, but they were most delighted and 
laughed with joy over the doggie, as did Tim also. 
To see the big fellow’s childlike pleasure at the 
little dog’s antics no one would have thought that 


BETTY BALAUSTION 


203 

he had traveled all over the world and seen the 
wonders of the ages. 

While the black poodle was dancing gaily to 
the tune of his master’s whistle — the master was 
concealed with me and Ronald and some others 
behind the trees — a white poodle joined him. 
The black poodle bowed and the white poodle, 
who wore a tiny skirt, dropped a curtsy, and they 
proceeded to do a pretty little minuet together. 

And as if that were not enough, two mottled 
ponies, very shaggy Shetlands, took their stand 
behind them and marked time with their hoofs. 
Then the little dogs jumped up to the backs of 
the ponies and the ponies turned their sides to- 
ward the cottage and showed the banners that 
hung from the saddles. The first pony’s ban- 
ner said, GOOD FORTUNE. The second, A 
HAPPY RETURN. 

The ponies scampered off, with the poodles 
bowing on their backs. 

When the laughing Candors and Tim ran be- 
hind the hedge to investigate, they saw only a 
happy group of people trying to pretend they 
knew nothing about the performers and their 
master, who, by that time, had all vanished be- 
yond the turn in the road. 

And that is how we wished success to Tim. 

Now, here it is September. A number of city 


204 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

folks are about to return to town. But we know 
that the sea and the hills are rather better all 
by themselves, don’t we? Especially when the 
leaves begin to turn, as they soon will with you 
in the mountains, and the soft autumnal clouds 
swirl low over my sunset seas! 

Success to all our friends! 

Your proud brother, my Betty Balaustion, 

Robert. 

Robert’s letter did give Betty just the en- 
couragement she needed. She had been putting 
off the talk with Mr. Garland from day to day 
and saying, “To-morrow, to-morrow,” in the way 
that is so dangerous to our good resolutions. 

“Betty Balaustion,” she said to herself with 
pleasure. “I must deserve that. I truly must. 
I will go to-day. I will go right now. And I 
will do itJ* 

So Betty started briskly across the meadow 
and over the bridge, on fire with determination. 

But by the time she reached the Job Road her 
steps began to flag. 

“O dear! It can’t be that I don’t want to 
go to Primrose’s!” she cried in dismay. 

The higher she went on the mountain road 
the lower her spirits sank. All of a sudden she 
felt that she could never, never do it. That made 


BETTY BALAUSTION 205 

her feel dreadfully, because she knew that Joe 
Silver was very wise, and that he knew all about 
the Garlands and was their friend, and that he 
would not have said that she could get Primrose 
down off the mountain, unless he was certain that 
there was a way for her to do it. 

She did so want to be brave and she went on, 
hoping that sense and strength would be given 
to her. 

She climbed up the mountain by inches. No- 
body would have believed that this slow-moving 
little girl was light-footed, fleet Betty Anderson. 

She realized that it was the most important 
thing she had ever had to do in her life and 
she felt that she was about one year old and 
Mr. Garland about a thousand. 

She was afraid he would think she was “fresh.” 
She was afraid he would think she was imper- 
tinent. She was afraid he would think she was 
unduly curious and that she had not played fair 
in asking for more confidence than he had seen 
fit to give her. She was afraid he would be angry. 
But most of all she was afraid that she might 
hurt him and make him cry as he had done that 
day when he had overheard Primrose longing 
to have Betty go to her house and “be friends.” 
She was afraid Primrose would think she 
shouldn’t have spoken. She was afraid Mr. Gar- 


2o6 the kind adventure 


land wouldn’t let Primrose play with her any 
more. Everything she thought of seemed to give 
her something else to be afraid of. 

At last she sat down on a stone and said to 
herself, “Now, see here. Miss! This won’t do. 
Is it right to speak to Mr. Garland or isn’t 
it?” 

She answered herself that it was right. “It 
must be right,” she thought, “because Father 
thought so too.” 

“Well, then,” she went on scolding herself. 
“Elizabeth Anderson — Betty BalaustionI — go 
ahead and do it I Don’t keep thinking about 
it until you get too scared to live.” 

That helped a little bit and Betty started on 
her way more bravely. She was still going very 
slowly, however, — until she heard a terrible noise 
down the ravine. 

It was a frightful commingling of sounds — 
dogs baying and the splash of feet in the brook 
and rocks tumbling down and bushes being torn I 

Betty clung to a tree, startled,, frightened and 
very angry, too. For she knew what the uproar 
meant — the saddest sound that can be heard in 
the woods, the sound of the hunt. 

Some law-breakers were hunting deer — law- 
breakers, for the season for hunting was not 
yet “open”; it was against the law to hunt deer 


BETTY BALAUSTION 


207 

that early in the year. And it was against the 
law to hunt them with dogs at any time. 

Betty hated the very thought of the hunt. She 
was afraid of the excited hunting dogs and of 
the hunters, too, and her first impulse was to 
hide until the chase went by. But then she 
thought that maybe she could get Mr. Garland 
or Joe Silver, if he happened to be there, in 
time to stop the hunt before the deer was killed. 
So she forgot her own fear in her anxiety for 
the poor hunted deer and rushed, scrambling, up 
the mountain. 

And, oh I then she saw the most awful sight. 
There was a little turn in the Garlands’ trail, 
where you could look right down the glen into 
the brook. From there Betty saw a beautiful 
deer, wounded and bloody, with his great eyes 
dropping tears, real tears, dashing wildly away 
from the hunters. He passed and soon Betty 
heard again the baying of the dogs. 

She felt as if they were hunting her. Any- 
body would have felt so who could have seen 
that beautiful creature so horribly frightened and 
so hurt. Betty fairly tore to the Garlands’ cot- 
tage. 

Nobody was there but Primrose. Even Amico 
was away with Mr. Garland, who had gone to 
Woodland Pond to fish. Primrose had begged 


2o8 the kind adventure 


him to take Amico because Mr. Garland’s foot 
was not strong and she knew that Amico would 
come for her if she were needed. Mr. Garland 
had consented, because he knew that Betty was 
expected and would stay with Primrose. 

Primrose’s quick ears had already heard the 
awful noises down the glen and she was furiously 
angry. She was as white as snow and she cried 
out, “Oh, how can they, Betty? How can they?” 

There are many little turns in the brook and 
as the chase followed the stream the noises seemed 
to come near and far and near again, minute by 
minute. At last they came very close : they 
seemed to be right behind the little girls. 

Then Primrose put back her head so far that 
her golden braids nearly touched the bluebells 
and her white throat quivered like the throat of 
a singing bird. Then she opened her mouth 
and made an oval of her lips and a queer, strange 
sound came through them. It was like a whinny 
and like a gentle bellow and like a call. It was 
a weird, woodsy sound. Primrose kept it up for 
a little while and then — The wounded deer came 
up from the brook and straight to her! 

She caught him by the horns and cried out, 
“Open the door, Betty! Quick! Quick!” 

Betty did so and Primrose entered, dragging 


BETTY BALAUSTION 


209 

the spent and panting animal behind her. Betty 
followed them and locked the door. 

She was rather frightened, at first, to be locked 
in with the deer, T)ut she need not have been. 
For the poor creature fell on his knees, gasping 
and weak. Primrose bathed his head just as if 
he had been a person and gave him some water 
to drink and washed his wound. It was horrid 
to look at but it was not very deep. The deer 
keeled over on his side and shut his eyes. 

“Is he dying?’’ whispered Betty. 

“No; I think not. He seems to be resting. I 
don’t think he is enough wounded to die, unless 
he can die of fright,” Primrose answered. 

All this time the hunting dogs were baying and 
barking and acting angrily outside the cabin win- 
dows. But Primrose said, “Don’t be frightened 
of the dogs, Betty. They cannot possibly get 
in. But the men will be here in a minute. I 
am more afraid of them. I wish Joe or Father 
would come.” 

“I am not afraid of the men,” said Betty, 
“at least, not very much. For I do not see how 
big men could be willing to hurt two little girls 
for loving a poor, wounded animal.” 

Betty was right. For soon the two men came 
and looked in the little window. Betty was glad 
the window was closed, even if she had said she 


210 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


was not afraid of them, for they had rough faces 
and looked angry at first. But as they stared in 
at the girls and the deer, one of them laughed 
and the other’s face crinkled up like he was go- 
ing to cry and his eyes did get watery. They 
could not help admiring the little girls’ bravery 
and being touched by it. They made friendly, 
reassuring little nods through the window and 
waved their hands and called off their dogs and 
went down the mountain. 

The dogs kept trying to come back. Betty 
and Primrose could hear the men shouting sharply 
to them. And at last they were gone. 

Soon Joe Silver came. He had met Mr. Gar- 
land going to fish that morning and had promised 
that he would drop in and see how Primrose was. 
He took in the situation at a glance, but said 
nothing while Primrose and Betty told him all 
about it. 

He carried the deer outdoors and told the girls 
to keep away while he took the bullet out. It 
was only flesh deep, he said. After a long while 
he came back and said that he wanted some salt. 
So he took that and some tender grasses and 
brought them to the deer. 

The little girls were too excited to speak, most 
of the time that Joe Silver was gone. They sat 
quietly in the window-seat in Primrose’s room, 


BETTY BALAUSTION 


211 


holding hands and saying scarcely anything. 
Once Primrose went for her little broom to clean 
the living-room floor. But she could not do it, 
and came back and sat by Betty again. 

After what seemed an age to Betty and Prim- 
rose, Joe Silver returned. 

“Your friend is better,” he said. “He’s had 
his lunch and gone.” 

Then Joe Silver shook his head and laughed 
to himself. He kept shaking his head harder 
and harder and laughing in silence. 

“We call that ‘laughing in his beard,’ ” Prim- 
rose whispered. 

Joe cleaned up the floor for her and straight- 
ened the little room, all the time continuing to 
chuckle. At last they heard him murmur, “Joe 
Silver doctoring venison! What will the world 
see next!” 

Then he bade the little girls to go out into 
the sunshine and sat down in the cabin door to 
wait for Mr. Garland. 

Primrose and Betty soon recovered their gaiety 
and laughed and played in the garden. But Joe 
became graver and graver, as if there were some- 
thing on his mind. 

Only once he smiled and spoke. He said to 
Primrose, “One day I said that girls were not 


212 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


as brave as boys; didn’t I? Well, I was wrong. 
They are.” 

Then he seemed to pay no further attention 
to them. But Primrose and Betty were very 
proud of the compliment, for they knew it was 
high praise coming from Joe Silver. 

“Here comes Father,” cried Primrose, as they 
heard Amico’s welcoming bark and the rustle of 
leaves and the crackle of dry twigs. And she 
ran to him and told him of their adventure. 

Mr. Garland had a long string of fish in his 
hand, which he handed to Joe Silver in silence. 
He grew very pale and you could sec that he 
was much disturbed by what had happened. He 
could not speak for some time. Then he said 
that it was a blessed thing that the huntsmen 
were a decent sort and that they went away 
without making trouble. 

“I’ll never leave Primrose here alone again, 
never, never!” he said. 

“Why, Father dear!” Primrose expostulated. 
“Don’t be afraid. I am as safe here as can be. 
After all, the men did not hurt me, you see. 
They were nothing but hunters; they wouldn’t 
hurt anything but the deer. They would not 
even have come near me if I hadn’t called the 
deer. Besides, there is even less danger of their 
coming here now than there was before. Now 


BETTY BALAUSTION 


213 


that they know weVe seen them breaking the 
game laws, they will be only too glad to keep 
away from us. So do not be alarmed, dearest.” 

But her father shook his head. 

“What a good debater you are, little woman,” 
he said. “But, no, I could not be comfortable, 
now, thinking of you here alone.” 

Then he turned to Joe and asked, “Don’t you 
think it is unwise for her to be left up here alone, 
Joe?” 

Joe Silver looked into Mr. Garland’s eyes for 
a long time and then said slowly and very clearly, 
“I think it is very wrong for her to be up here 
at allJ^ 

Mr. Garland turned then and fairly ran into 
the cabin, with his head bowed, and locked the 
door. 

Primrose went over to Joe and said sadly and 
reproachfully, “Oh! Oh! You have done it 
again !” 

Joe looked just as sad as she did, but he 
replied doggedly, “Sorry. But I had to.” 

Then he went away, sighing and shaking his 
head. At the top of the trail he turned and 
looked at Betty. “It’s up to you,” he said. 

Betty’s cheeks burned and her heart beat fast. 
She felt that Joe had opened the way for what 


214 the kind adventure 

she had to do. She felt that the dreaded, im- 
portant moment had come. 

So she went to the cabin and knocked at the 
door. Her heart was knocking harder than her 
hand, but Betty Balaustion did not falter. 

“Why, Betty ” Primrose began in sur- 

prise; but Betty silenced her, saying, “I must go 
in. Primrose. Please don’t say anything and 
please don’t come with me.” 

Mr. Garland opened the door in answer to 
Betty’s knock. He looked white and worried. 
He was much astonished to see Betty standing 
there, especially when she motioned to Primrose 
to stay outside. 

“What is it, Betty?” he asked. “Is anything 
wrong?” 

Betty began to talk as soon as she got in and 
she spoke very fast. She was afraid that she 
could not begin at all if she stopped to think 
and that, if she spoke slowly, her courage might 
not last until she got through. 

But her love for Primrose taught her what 
to say and the simple little speech went to Mr. 
Garland’s heart more directly than any well- 
planned argument could have done. 

Betty said, “Mr. Garland, I love you. I love 
you and Primrose very, very much. I hate to 
have you unhappy. And I don’t want Primrose 


BETTY BALAUSTION 


215 


to live up here all the time and not be like other 
little girls forever and ever. I’m only a little 
girl, but I think maybe I could help get you and 
Primrose down and fix up whatever the trouble 
is if I knew what it is — ^because I love you very 
much. I asked Father and he thought maybe I 
could help — but he didn’t know if I could. But 
he wouldn’t tell me why you have to stay up here. 
He said only you could tell me — if you wanted 
to — because it was your secret. But he said I 
could tell you that I was a trustworthy little girl 
and that he would advise you to tell me and 
that we all wanted to help, if you would let us. 
So please trust me, Mr. Garland. For I love 
you and Primrose very much.” 

Mr. Garland’s eyes filled with tears as Betty 
spoke. But she could see that, though he was 
deeply moved, he was neither hurt nor angry. 
He understood her feeling and appreciated her 
courage and affection. He stooped down and 
kissed her and took her on his knee on the big 
rustic chair, and stroked her curls, just as her 
own Daddy did and said, “Good, brave little 
friend to my girl ! I’m glad you love us so much, 
little Betty. You are right. Primrose must get 
down from the mountain — whatever happens to 
me. And I shall be glad to have your help — 
and your good father’s, too, if he will give it. 


2i6 the kind adventure 


You are our little friend now and are entitled 
to know all about us. I will willingly trust the 
girl who has trusted me so perfectly. But I 
think you and Primrose and I have all had ex- 
citement and strain enough for one day, and that 
your mother would be more pleased if I let you 
go home and rest now, as Primrose, too, must 
do. But when you come again, Pll tell you all 
about it.” 

“I think you are just darling, not to think me 
meddlesome and horrid,” said Betty. 

‘T think you are ‘just darling’ yourself, Betty 
Bob-curl!” said he. 

“It was you who made me brave enough, in 
the first place,” Betty said. “You — and Balaus- 
tion!” 

Mr. Garland kissed her again and Betty went 
out and kissed Primrose, whose eyes were wide 
with wonder, and patted Amico and went away 
with a great load off her heart. 

Mrs. Anderson knew as soon as she saw Betty 
come into her room that the great deed had 
been done. 

“Mother!” Betty cried. “I asked Mr. Gar- 
land ! And it wasn’t hard at all !” 

She poured out to her mother’s sympathetic 
ears all the thrilling events of the day. 

“It is the most exciting day I ever had,” she 


BETTY BALAUSTION 


217 


said. “And I’m tired, Mother dear, — but, oh, 
so happy! For Mr. Garland is going to tell me 
all about it. And I know Daddy and you and 
I will find a way, and that it will all end happily 1” 


CHAPTER XVI 


MR. GARLAND^S SECRET 


“1YT0THERI Father, Mother!” cried Betty 
in great glee, running down the road to 
meet her parents. “Only think! The Candors 
have invited me to come to stay with them in 
time for the house-warming when the new bunga- 
low is finished. Won’t that be glorious? Can I 
go? I mean, may I? Oh, hurry into the tree- 
house and read this ! Read it.” 

“Another letter from Robert?” asked Mrs. 
Anderson, smiling. “Robert and Betty are such 
great correspondents this summer,” she remarked 
to her husband, “one would think they were writ- 
ing a book.” 

“So we are,” Betty replied. “We are writing 
two books.” 

“That is true,” her father agreed. “Two 
books in print of life — that means with real liv- 
ing people for the characters, Betty.” 

“One thing is certain,” said Betty’s mother. 
“It is doing Betty a great deal of good. It is 
218 


MR. GARLAND’S SECRET 219 

not only good for her to live In the lives of 
others, but the actual writing has been beneficial, 
too. Now we are here In the tree-house, 
daughter. Let’s have the Important letter.” 

“It is full of compliments,” said Betty, blush- 
ing; “but I must say I like them.” 

Her parents laughed and Mr. Anderson said, 
“ ‘An honest confession Is good for the soul,’ ” 
and pinched her cheek. Then he opened Bob’s 
letter and read: 


Cape Wildwind, Sept. 5th. 

Brave Betty, 

I am very proud of you. I feel like walking 
abroad with a placard on my chest reading “Be- 
hold Betty’s Big Brother I” 

Courage Is a good thing and friendship Is a 
better and my girl had them both. We think 
you and Primrose are trumps to have saved the 
deer and we think you are a special trump to 
have dared ask Mr. Garland his secret. 

We have had some argument about physical 
and moral courage, as to which It Is better to 
carry around with one — the kind of courage that 
made two little girls dare to face the hunters or 
the kind that made Betty go up the mountain and 
do an unpleasant task because she thought it 
would help her friend. 


220 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


Mother Candor said that she had seen men who 
would fight anything in sight, or anybody, and 
yet did not have courage enough to confess them- 
selves wrong when they were mistaken, and she 
had seen little women, afraid of a beetle, who 
would face any sort of sorrow for what they 
thought honorable. She gave her vote for moral 
courage. So did we all, but the Captain added 
thoughtfully, “We — 11, of course, you are right; 
moral courage is better, if you can only have one 
kind. But, as an actual fact, I think you will 
usually find that anyone who has a great deal 
of one kind has usually a great deal of both. 
Courage is courage and a truly brave man or 
woman is brave in body, mind and spirit. A real 
brave person is not afraid of a beetle or of stand- 
ing up for what’s right either.” The Captain is 
a real brave person himself, so he should know. 

We are very busy ordering draperies and fur- 
nishings for the new house. It will be charm- 
ing and we have a hope. O Betty! Shall I tell 
you now or keep it? No! It’s too good to keep 
another minute. The Candors and I have a hope 
that Father and Mother will let you come for the 
housewarming when the dear little place is ready, 
as it soon should be. I shall beg, beseech, cajole, 
threaten, and insist until they let you come. So 
give them good warning of what they have to 


MR. GARLAND’S SECRET 


221 


expect. The Candors will write you a little invi- 
tation when the time comes; they want you to 
stay with them. 

Tell Father we loved the kodak pictures he 
sent us — especially the one of a smiling, wind- 
blown little girl playing the fiddle on a mountain 
top. I could imagine the trees full of birds with 
their heads cocked listening to the concert and say- 
ing, “Very lovely, indeed, for mere human mu- 
sic!” and bunnies and chipmunks in the hollows 
replying scornfully, “Very pretty, compared with 
any music, we think. These musicians are so 
liable to jealousy, my dear!” 

We liked the picture of Miss Connie picking 
poppies in the garden, too. We liked it so much 
that Mother Candor begged it from me. She 
said that she and Miss Connie were just naturally 
made to be friends and to love each other. Of 
course, I gave it to her, but it left me broken- 
hearted, for I wanted the picture myself. I think 
it is the loveliest I ever saw. Ask Dad to print 
me another, will you? 

Tim Andrews is on the high seas now and we 
hope it will not be long before we get news from 
England. I hope he may find the kind neighbor in 
the English town who forwarded the blue Bible 
and that she may remember the address to which 
she sent it. It will be easy to recognize the blue 


222 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


Bible itself, if we ever get on its track, for 
Mother Candor remembers the inscription she 
put in it. So make it a habit, Betty dear, if ever 
you see a small blue Bible, to ask permission to 
look inside of it and see if the fly-leaf reads: “To 
John, who cannot sail so far as to pass the boun- 
daries of Mother’s love.” 

Just as you cannot escape your big brother’s, 
little sister of my heart! 

B. B. B. 

“Well, may I go, if it is possible?” asked Betty 
as soon as the letter had been read. “Oh! If 
Primrose can come down off the mountain and 
I can go to the Candors’ housewarming and Tim 
gets good news — wouldn’t that be too glorious? 
May I go. Mother?” 

“Surely you may go, honey, if it can be ar- 
ranged to get you there, as I have no doubt it 
can. We must let the details wait, however, until 
Father comes back from his visit to the city.” Mr. 
Anderson was returning to the city on the noon- 
day train to remain for a week. 

“Oh, thank you!” said happy Betty, kissing 
her mother. “I knew you would. It is a nuisance 
that Father has to go and attend to business in 
the city on his vacation! And I’m sorry that 
you won’t be here to hear what Mr. Garland tells 


MR. GARLAND’S SECRET 223 

me — but, then, you know about it, don’t you, 
Daddy? And if he lets you help you can do it 
when you come back.” 

“Are you going to hear Mr. Garland’s confi- 
dence to-day?” asked Mrs. Anderson. 

“Yes, Mother; and I’m so excited. I waited a 
few days so as not to seem too in-a-hurry. I saw 
Primrose, though, at our sewing lesson. But I 
simply can’t wait any longer. So I’m going right 
after luncheon. I sent word by Primrose that 
I was coming, so that if Mr. Garland did not feel 
like it to-day he could let me know through Joe 
Silver.” 

“That was delicate and right,” said Mrs. An- 
derson approvingly. 

Betty found that afternoon that Mr. Garland 
did seem to “feel like it.” He appreciated Betty’s 
consideration and showed his own courtesy by 
meeting her on the trail, as if to let her know 
how glad he was to welcome her. 

He rubbed Betty’s hand gently as they went 
along together, for it was cold with excitement 
and eagerness. He led her into the little studio. 
Primrose was there. She had been posing for 
the lovely portrait that was so much like her. 
Mr. Garland kept on painting as he talked. He 
said it was easier for him that way. 

“You know I am an artist, Betty,” he began. 


224 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

“And when I lived back there in the world some 
people were kind enough to think me a pretty 
good one.” 

“Now, Father I” Primrose interrupted. “He is 
too modest, Betty. He was considered one of 
the very greatest artists. When you were telling 
me about your going with your brother to the 
big Art Museum in Central Park, it was all I 
could do not to tell you that some of my father’s 
beautiful paintings were hanging there for every- 
one to admire.” 

Mr. Garland smiled at his daughter’s pride. 

He went on, “I had a great big, splendid studio 
to work in. It always seemed a pity to me to 
close it up in the summer when I was away, as 
so many poor artists had no good place to paint 
in at all. Therefore, when summer came and 
Primrose’s mother and I and the baby — that was 
Primrose — used to go to Europe, I took to let- 
ting some poverty-stricken young fellows, who 
could not afford to rent a studio, use it and live 
in it until we returned in the fall. 

“Then, when Primrose’s mother died” — Mr. 
Garland could hardly bear to tell this part and 
spoke quickly, as if he wanted to be through with 
it as soon as he could — “I did not feel like com- 
ing back to America without her. So Primrose 
and I stayed in England a whole year, and the 


MR. GARLAND’S SECRET 225 

poor young artists were allowed to live in the 
studio all that time.” 

“That certainly was dear of you,” said Betty, 
as Mr. Garland paused to think how he could 
make the rest of his story clear to such a young 
listener. 

“Well, I am glad I let them stay there,” he 
said, “even though it brought me much sorrow 
in the end; for two of the young men have be- 
come very great and famous now, and I am thank- 
ful that I was able to give them help when they 
needed it. 

“When at last I came home with this little girl 
— she was just a toddler then — I found that the 
four young men were engaged on some pretty 
big work and I still let them stay in my studio 
until they had finished it. For I was not yet fit 
for work and was very seldom at the studio my- 
self. 

“One of these young men was not honest. He 
was a fairly good artist, but a very bad man. 
You know, Betty, that old, old pictures made by 
the Masters, the world’s very greatest artists who 
lived centuries ago, are rare and very, very 
precious. Rich men and museums and even cities 
and nations pay vast sums of money for them; 
and they are worth all the money in the world 


226 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


for the reverence and delight and beauty-loving 
honor that surround them. 

“Well, this dishonest young artist knew a dealer 
in pictures, a man who sold pictures for a living, 
who was as wicked as he. The dealer used to 
find pictures that were old but not made by the 
Masters and not particularly valuable; and this 
unscrupulous young artist had the cleverness to 
touch them up and make them look so much like 
Old Masters that many people, who were not 
able to judge for themselves and trusted the 
dealer, were deceived into paying high prices for 
them. The two men got rich on their dishonest 
gains. 

“It was all found out at last, as such things 
always are, and the dealer was punished as he 
should have been. But he would not tell who 
the artist was who had helped in the cheating; 
which would have been praiseworthy in him, per- 
haps, if the pictures had not been traced back 
to my studio, where unjust suspicion fell upon all 
the young men, and even upon me. 

“It should have been short-lived enough, for 
the guilty one fled from the country and all the 
rest of us remained to vindicate ourselves — to 
make it as clear as we could that we had had no 
hand in doing this cheating thing. Of course, 
none of our friends believed we had had anything 


MR. GARLAND’S SECRET 227 


to do with it. But some unjust newspapers tried 
to make it seem that we might have had a part 
in the wickedness and some people, too quick to 
think ill of others, believed them. 

“The young men did not take it so terribly to 
heart. They were young, with life before them. 
They were unknown and would probably not be 
remembered in this connection. But I was un- 
bearably disappointed and wounded that anybody 
would believe me so guilty against honesty and 
against art, and I felt that the public that had 
honored me in the past would never trust me 
again — and Primrose’s mother had died — and I 
felt that there was nothing to live for any more 
but my little girl. So I brought her up, into the 
mountains and determined not to be heard from 
again, unless the truth about my innocence should 
be firmly established and so well known that no 
one could question it. 

“In many ways it has been pleasant here. And 
I have painted pictures in the mountains better 
than any I made before. That cabinet is full of 
them. But I always intended that they should 
not be shown while I lived. So I made the ad- 
vertising pictures for a living and sold them 
through an agency with the help of my old guide 
and friend, Joe Silver. The rest of our story 
you know, Betty.” 


228 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


Betty went over to Mr. Garland and patted his 
hand in the comforting, affectionate little way she 
had. 

“I feel now,” he continued, “that it was weak 
to do as I did; that I should have stayed and 
faced it out, if only for Primrose’s sake. But 
the baby seemed well and happy here; and the 
longer I stayed away the harder it was to go 
back, and the more I brooded about how ungrate- 
fully the world that had praised and loved my 
work forgot the worker and was content to be- 
lieve ill of him, the more bitter I became. 

“I was always thinking, ‘Next year, next year 
I will return.’ But this summer has opened my 
eyes wide, Betty dear. I know that the time 
has come now. I know that Primrose must leave 
the mountain at once and go to school and not 
grow up unlike the other little girls. And I’m 
conceited enough to think that she wouldn’t go 
very happily unless I go too — eh, my girl?” 

“I wouldn’t go at all without you, of course,” 
said Primrose firmly. 

“My Primula I” said Mr. Garland tenderly, 
calling her by her mother’s name. 

“So now my resolution is taken. We are to 
go back to the city soon. And, Betty-Best-friend, 
if you will ask your father to come up here and 
talk to me, perhaps he can advise me just what 


MR. GARLAND’S SECRET 229 

to do and maybe he will negotiate the sale of a 
picture or two so that Primrose may get ready 
and buy the frocks and other pretty things that 
little girls have. I shall ask him to try to keep 
my return as quiet as can be, so that the news- 
papers may not say unkind, untrue things again.” 
Mr. Garland winced. “Do you think he can, little 
Betty?” 

Betty’s expression had grown very sad and 
sober during the painful narrative. She had not 
known that there was so much injustice and in- 
gratitude in the world. But now she brightened, 
for she felt certain that the injustice could be 
defeated and everything made right, and she 
knew that her father would know just how to go 
about it. 

“I know my father can,” she answered eagerly. 
“And I feel sure he can make the papers tell the 
truth, Mr. Garland, and make it all come out 
right. Father can do anything. He’s gone to the 
city for a week; but I’ll bring him up here the 
very minute he comes back. He’ll fix everything.” 

Mr. Garland smiled and shook his head a lit- 
tle dubiously; but Betty said, “Oh, yes, he can! 
You don’t know my father.” 

“Well, at any rate, I think he would tell me to 
come back, whether everything is ‘fixed’ or not,” 
said Mr. Garland; and Betty added thoughtfully. 


230 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

“I only know what he always says to me^ Mr. 
Garland. He says that honesty should never 
hide nor truth keep silent.” 

Mr. Garland looked very grave then, and said, 
“I am sure that he is right. Anyway, we can try. 
And, whatever happens, you have won, Betty. 
Primrose may leave the mountain whenever she 
wishes. Do you want to visit Betty at the Inn 
to-day, daughter?” 

“Oh, not just yet!” Primrose began timidly. 
“Wait until some more of the boarders have gone 
home. I’d rather not answer so many questions. 
Let me get used to the thought of going down.” 

Betty was a little bit disappointed at first; she 
would have loved to take Primrose home with 
her right away. But she understood that it was 
natural for Primrose to be shy about it, and she 
was happy to know that they would soon be to- 
gether as often as possible. 

“Oh! You’ll love it. Primrose,” she cried. 
“Only think! We can be together all the winter. 
Oh! Goody, goody!” 

Primrose’s eyes glowed, but she said, “Father, 
dear, if it will be too hard for you to meet every- 
body — and the newspapers — I’m really happy to 
stay here.” 

“No, Primrose,” Betty expostulated. “My 
father’s going to get all that fixed. You wait and 


MR. GARLAND’S SECRET 231 

see. And maybe Bob can help. May I tell my 
brother Robert, Mr. Garland?” 

“To be sure, you may.” 

“Thank you. My brother Robert Is just as 
Interested as can be In Primrose. I’ll write to 
him to-night and tell him. I just know that he 
and Daddy can fix It. Wouldn’t It be just great 
If Primrose can come down to the hotel for my 
birthday on the nineteenth ! Most of the summer 
boarders will have gone then. Primrose. And — 
oh ! — It would be the joyousest birthday present I” 

“And you shall have It, Betty dear,” Mr. Gar- 
land assured her. “Don’t you think that Betty 
deserves It of us. Primrose?” 

“Yes, Indeed,” said happy Primrose. “And I 
hope It won’t be hard for you. Father.” 

“With one of you on each side of me and 
both of you so happy,” said Mr. Garland, putting 
his arms around the little girls, “I feel as if noth- 
ing could be hard.” 

Betty went down the mountain, composing her 
letter to Robert. She could hardly wait until she 
reached the hotel to write to him all about Mr. 
Garland’s sad story and the perfect success of 
her mission. She was happier than she had words 
to express, but she knew that Robert would un- 
derstand and be delighted with the success of his 
“interfering little sister,” as she called herself. 


232 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


As she turned into the broad lower part of the 
Job Road she saw Joe Silver at a distance. She 
saw him a long time before he saw her and he 
was walking so slowly and stopping so often that 
she knew he was waiting for her. 

Betty wondered what to say to him. She knew 
that Joe was eager to know what had happened. 
She did not want to discuss Mr. Garland’s affairs 
with Joe without that gentleman’s permission. 
And yet she did want Joe Silver to know that 
she had not failed him. 

When Joe met her he did not ask anything with 
his lips, but Betty thought his eyes were just like 
big question-marks. 

“He knows I’ve asked Mr. Garland,” thought 
Betty. “Joe Silver knows everything. I think the 
wood fairies must tell him.” 

Betty decided to do to Joe Silver just what he 
would have done to her under the same circum- 
stances. 

She smiled a long, slow smile, as much like him 
as she could, and then said very slowly, in Joe’s 
quiet, drawling way, “When you trust anybody 
to do something, you must just wait and let her 
do it.” Then she went on past him. 

She couldn’t help looking back after a while. 
And there was Joe Silver doubled right in two 
with laughing. He did not laugh long in silence 


MR. GARLAND’S SECRET 233 

this time, but burst into loud guffaws that made 
the woods resound. He laughed so loud and 
clear that Betty kept hearing him all the way 
down to the meadow, and just before each new 
roar of laughter she heard the little echo of the 
last one. 

Every time Betty heard Joe’s laugh her own 
floated up to meet it. 

And the old Job Road, that afternoon, was 
transformed into a path of merriment and joy. 


CHAPTER XVII 


PRIMROSE AND HER COUSIN 

OW imagine if you can Betty’s state of mind 

^ when she received this letter : 

Cape Wildwind, September 7th. 

O Betty I My Dear! 

Your letter just came to me — it’s late at night 
and I’ve just come home from having supper 
with the Candors. I must answer it at once to 
tell you something so very, very important about 
Mr. Garland. I cannot wait till morning. This 
may catch the last mail train. 

In the first place, I must make a confession. 
As soon as you told me in a letter long ago about 
the beautiful picture of Primrose that Mr. Gar- 
land had painted, I suspected that he was Fred- 
erick Mason Garland, the great painter who had 
such a distressing experience years ago. But, of 
course, it was only a suspicion, and, of course, I 
felt, as Father did, that I was not free to tell you 
of it. 

But now I have read your letter twice and it 
234 


PRIMROSE AND HER COUSIN 235 

seems clear that Mr. Garland himself does not 
know the whole story. 

Betty, hear this: The young artist who pre- 
pared the false pictures confessed three years ago! 
The newspapers all told then how wrongly Mr. 
Garland had been suspected, how terribly mis- 
judged. 

It seems hardly possible that Mr. Garland has 
not heard of it himself. And yet I remember 
that the reporters failed to find him or to get 
any inkling of his whereabouts at the time of the 
disclosure. And he has cut himself off so com- 
pletely from his friends, from the newspapers, 
and from all communication with people who 
care about the art world. Even the advertising 
pictures he makes are probably sent by some agent 
who does not know his true identity. So it may 
be possible that he has never heard; and, indeed, 
from your letter, it must be the fact. 

My advice to you, dear, — if Father has not re- 
turned to the mountains by the time this let'ter 
reaches you — is to have Miss Connie meet Prim- 
rose at once. 

Miss Connie, as she is Mrs. Garland’s cousin, 
will surely know all about it. She can give Mr. 
Garland the full details. And, as all has been 
revealed and explained to the world, there is no 
longer any secret for you to keep. 


236 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


I must rush this to the mail, sweetheart. Mr. 
Garland has suffered so many unnecessary years I 
cannot let him suffer an unnecessary minute. 

Bless my lass and the magic of her friendship ! 
Run, run, bring the good news to your friends I 
Your happy Brother Bob. 

Betty ran into her mother’s room calling out, 
“Mother, Mother! It’s all right I It’s all right!” 

But Mrs. Anderson was not there and Betty 
ran madly out again and knocked upon Miss Con- 
nie’s door. There was no one there either. Betty 
was not surprised at finding Miss Connie out, for 
Miss Connie was a very outdoors person and al- 
most never in the house in the day time. So the 
excited little girl dashed out to find her. She 
tore along the roads and up the trails and in the 
ravines, stopping everybody she met and asking 
eagerly, *^Have you seen Miss Connie Althorpe?” 

She learned that some of the people had gone 
to Split Rock Falls, and she ran all the way there 
in the hope that Miss Connie was with them. She 
found them all sitting on the big rocks by the 
shore and watching the cascade. But Miss Con- 
nie was not among them. She had been there, 
they told Betty, but had returned to the hotel by 
another path. 

Betty flew back after her. 


PRIMROSE AND HER COUSIN 237 


No, she was not there. She had returned, in- 
deed, the ladies on the porch told Betty, but had 
taken her paints and gone up to the Cedar Falls 
to sketch. Fortunately Cedar Falls were not far 
from the house, for Betty was hot and tired and 
out of breath by this time. She was glad to have 
a clew at last. She hurried up the slippery trail 
where it was all pine-needles, because that was 
the shortest way. Part of the way she had to 
climb on her hands and knees, like a baby. Then 
she picked her steps over the moist, slidy soap- 
stone rocks in Cedar Brook. 

And at last she found Miss Connie. 

Miss Connie was busy sketching. She was 
sitting on a fallen log, with her hat beside her. 
She had her little sketch pad on her knee and her 
head on one side and her pencil held high in the 
air. 

By this time Betty was too eager to think about 
her usual good manners. She did not mean to 
be rude, but she simply could not wait for ex- 
planations. 

Before Miss Connie knew what had happened 
to her, Betty had picked up her hat from the log 
and put it on her head, had closed her sketch 
pad, taken away her pencil, and saying, “Come, 
please come! Please come right away. I want 


238 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

to take you somewhere. It is important,” had 
begun to drag her across the rocks. 

Some young ladies would have resented all 
this. But Miss Connie had kept her heart very 
young indeed, and so she understood Betty just 
as if they had been of the same age. She saw 
that Betty was too excited to explain, and as soon 
as she made sure that nothing was the matter, 
she came right along. Her eyes twinkled all the 
time and it was plain that she thought it was 
just some little-girlish interest of Betty’s that had 
taken her so suddenly from her sketching. What- 
ever it was. Miss Connie was glad to be included 
in it. She suspected that some little surprise had 
been planned for her, so she dutifully talked about 
other things all the way. She was a little as- 
tonished at being taken up the hard, rocky Job 
Road, but she did not decline to go, nor did she 
ask any questions. , 

When they reached the open space at the foot 
of Primrose’s trail, Betty thought that perhaps 
she should not bring Miss Connie farther without 
Mr. Garland’s permission, so she asked her to 
wait for her just a few minutes. 

But Betty had just started up the trail when 
she turned back and came down again — for Ami- 
co barked and Primrose stepped out of the 
bushes. 


PRIMROSE AND HER COUSIN 239 

Except that she was startled this time, Prim- 
rose looked just as she had the first time Betty 
saw her, as she stood timidly holding the bushes, 
with Amico beside her and the sunlight making 
her long braids shine and the top of her head glow 
like a buttercup. She was beautiful. 

Miss Connie clasped her hands, when she saw 
Primrose, and turned so white that Betty was 
afraid she was ill. She said, “Primula! You 
must he Primula Garland’s child!” For Prim- 
rose looked so much like her mother that Miss 
Connie knew her immediately. 

Primrose was frightened. She cried out, “Bet- 
ty, who is it? What is the matter, Betty?” 

But Miss Connie, with her sweet and blessed 
tact, made her comfortable in a minute. She 
stopped seeming excited and spoke calmly, just 
as if nothing wonderful was happening. “Do 
not be frightened, dear child,” she said. “I will 
go away right now, if you wish it. Only first I 
should like to know whether your name is Prim- 
rose Garland. For, if it is, I am your cousin 
Constance, my dear, who loved your mother and 
your father — and trusted him always — and I have 
tried so long to find you both.” 

Primrose said softly, almost in a whisper, 
“Yes. I am Primrose Garland. And do not go 
away, please.” 


240 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

She looked at Miss Connie strangely, as if she 
longed to go to her and did not know whether 
she ought to or not. 

But Miss Connie, her eyes full of tears, held 
out her arms to Primrose and said, “My precious 
little girl! My dear!” and Primrose gave a little 
sob and ran to her and laughed and cried in Miss 
Connie’s arms. 

Betty thought it best to leave them alone to- 
gether. So she quietly slipped away. 

The next few hours were very anxious ones for 
Betty. She stayed close around the hotel and 
kept her glance turning to the end of the Job 
Road to watch for Miss Connie’s return. She 
was so eager to know as soon as possible whether 
all went happily up the mountain. She felt sure 
that everything was right and beautiful. But 
she wanted to have Miss Connie come and say 
that it was really so. 

At last she went up to her room and took Mr. 
Shiver Strings from his case and began to prac- 
tice gently. Mr. Shiver Strings always knew how 
to calm Betty and keep her content. She became 
so interested in her music that when Miss Connie 
did turn down the Job Road and cross the 
meadow Betty did not see her, after all. 

But Miss Connie came right up to Betty’s room 
and brought her a note from Mr. Garland. It 



“miss CONNIE CLASPED HER HANDS, AND TURNED SO WHITE THAT BETTY 
WAS AFRAID SHE WAS ILL.” — Page 2J9 





PRIMROSE AND HER COUSIN 241 

said, “Thank you, little Fairy Godmother. We 
are very happy.’’ 

Betty’s mother came In then and heard the de- 
lightful news. And Betty told them both about 
Robert’s letter and how she had known by that 
that it was right to take Miss Connie up the moun- 
tain. 

Miss Connie left them then to tell Mrs. Al- 
thorpe what had happened. 

All that evening Miss Connie and Mrs. Al- 
thorpe were so pleased with Betty, and Miss Con- 
nie praised and petted her so much, and even 
Mrs. Althorpe said such lovely things about her, 
that Mrs. Anderson said she was afraid they 
would spoil her. 

They praised Robert too, and Miss Connie said 
that he deserved to be Betty’s big brother. 

When they were alone In their own rooms that 
night, Betty snuggled up on the couch, close to 
her mother and gave a happy sigh. 

“Oh I I am so thankful !” she said. “It seems 
too good to be true that Miss Connie Is Prim- 
rose’s cousin. H’m ! Mrs. Althorpe is Primrose’s 
grand-aunt, too. It seems so queer. Especially 
about Mrs. Althorpe. I can’t think of her as 
being related to Primrose. Of course, she’s nice. 
Mother, — but so very fine and stylish and sort 
of frosty that you can’t enjoy her very much. But 


242 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

Miss Connie is a darling and I am so happy that 
she really belongs to Primrose. She says that 
Primrose is to be her little sister. I am so glad! 
Pd like to be her little sister too. 

“I wonder what the Garlands will do now?” 
she prattled on. “Well, anyway, one thing is sure: 
they won’t always stay on the mountain. Why, 
now Father won’t have to speak to the newspa- 
pers or anything: they won’t need it, will they? 
Isn’t it wonderful! O Mother, I think I must 
be the happiest and thankfullest little girl in the 
whole world except Primrose Garland. And I 
want her to be the happiest of all.” 

And Betty was radiant with that sweetest of 
pleasures — ^joy in the happiness of our friends. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


PLEASANT PLANS 

first thing that Mr. Anderson did upon 
his return to Apple Tree Inn, where he 
heard the good news about the Garlands, was 
to go up the mountain with Betty to call upon 
them. 

He was overjoyed at the “happy ending” and 
most astonished to learn that Mr. Garland had 
not known long before of his complete vindica- 
tion. He said that he had wondered why Mr. 
Garland remained so sensitive and preferred to 
keep away from other people, when his innocence 
had been made so clear; but it had never occurred 
to him that Mr. Garland might not have received 
the news of the young artist’s confession. 

You may be sure that he was proud and thank- 
ful for his little daughter’s part in bringing about 
the present satisfactory state of things. 

He kept smiling down into her happy face as 
they went up the Job Road together, and he said, 
“I think it is just as glad an adventure as I have 
243 


244 the kind adventure 

ever known or read about, — this kind adventure 
of yours. I hope Joe Silver is as delighted as he 
ought to be, and Tm sure that The Old Woman 
Who Lives Under the Hill will consider you a 
useful person, indeed.” 

“Well, Fm sure that they’ll both be very, 
very glad for Primrose’s sake,” said Betty. “But 
I think that they will be sorry for themselves. 
Anybody’d be sorry to lose Primrose. But Mr. 
Garland and Primrose say that they will come 
back here every summer that they can; and I 
know that they will never forget Joe and the lit- 
tle Old Woman or any of their other friends. 
Primrose says she will love Joe forever for all 
that he has done for her, and forever and ever 
and ever for bringing her and me together.” 

Mr. Garland laughed. 

“The best of all the joys of the summer,” he 
said, “will prove to be the joy of a close, all- 
your-life-long friendship, I trust. There is noth- 
ing better than that.” 

“I know it will,” said Betty. “Primrose and 
I are always going to be best friends. Brother 
Bob said in his letter, ‘May you always wear a 
Primrose Garland on your heart!’ and I’m going 
to. Bob says the Candors are just as pleased as 
can be about Primrose. He says that Mother 
Candor danced when she heard the good news, 


PLEASANT PLANS 


245 


Just like a little girl! She held out her white 
apron, by the lace ruffle, and danced a little waltz 
of joy. I certainly wish I could have seen her 
do it.’’ 

“Have the Candors heard from Timothy An- 
drews?” asked Mr. Anderson. 

“Oh! Not yet. He hasn’t had much time, 
though. Bob says. Oh, do you think they’ll find 
John’s baby. Daddy?” 

“No one can tell that, dear. One cannot help 
fearing that the English neighbor of Mrs. John 
Candor has forgotten an address written in for- 
warding the blue Bible so many years ago — even 
if Tim should find the neighbor herself, which 
may also be doubtful.” But, seeing Betty’s down- 
cast face, he added more cheerfully, “Let us hope, 
anyway, my dear. It is our duty to hope until it 
is clear that there is no chance at all — and even 
a little bit after that, for fear that we may be 
mistaken.” 

“I’m going to hope,” said Betty brightly. “See 
how wonderfully everything is happening for the 
Garlands! I just know you will just love them. 
Daddy!” 

“I am sure I shall.” 

“It seems so strange for Primrose to be hav- 
ing so much company,” said Betty. “Miss Con- 


246 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

nie comes up every day and even Mrs. Althorpe 
came once.” 

“It must have been a very hard climb for Mrs. 
Althorpe.” 

“Yes, sir, — she said it was. That’s why she 
came only once. She said it tired her dread- 
fully to go up the Job Road. But, — Daddy ” 

“Yes, dear?” 

“Of course it did tire her; and I know she isn’t 
so very young. But — I think she wouldn’t get 
quite so tired if she would not wear such high 
heels on her slippers. I have often noticed that 
very stylish people do not have much fun in the 
country.” 

“That is true, little great-grandmother. The 
country likes plain clothes and plain people the 
best,” said her father, smiling. “But, for that 
matter, I do not believe that very stylish people 
have as much fun anywhere as plainer folks do.” 

Primrose ran down to meet Betty and her 
father, for Joe had brought word of their ap- 
proach. Mr. Garland did not come with her 
because his foot was troublesome. Primrose said 
that she thought the best part of their going 
to the city would be that her father could con- 
sult a good doctor and have his foot made well. 

Primrose and Betty and Amico and the pigeon 
played in the little garden, while their fathers 


PLEASANT PLANS 


247 

sat in the wee living-room and discussed business 
matters. 

Soon Miss Connie came up the trail and Prim- 
rose ran to greet her and kissed her just as if she 
had known her all her life. Mr. Garland saw 
them through the little window and called out, 
“All right, Connie. You may have your wish 
now.’’ And he came out to see her, leaning on 
Mr. Anderson’s arm. 

“You see, Anderson,” he explained, “this young 
lady has been very eager to go down to Albany 
and get some frocks and fixings for Primrose. 
But I wouldn’t let her advance any money until 
I had seen you and found out from you whether 
people still liked my paintings and whether you 
thought I could surely sell them to advantage.” 

“My dear fellow,” Mr. Anderson assured 
him, “you have no idea how valuable your works 
have become. People have had time to learn to 
appreciate them and there will be a grand rush 
of dealers to secure these, you may be sure. Old 
ones have been resold at fabulous prices.” 

“I told him so, but he was too modest to be- 
lieve me,” said Miss Connie reproachfully, pre- 
tending to pout. 

They all sat down on the grass and the stones 
and the little rustic bench at the door. 

“Now, Primrose,” Miss Connie said gaily, “Pll 


248 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

go down and buy a lot of pretty frocks In Al- 
bany, and then we’ll have a good time dressing 
you up and taking you down to the hotel. We 
must hurry to be in time for Betty’s birthday.” 

But Primrose began timidly, “Cousin Connie, 
would you mind just buying the goods Instead of 
the dresses?” 

“Why, dear?” 

“You see,” Primrose explained, “I’d love to 
have the pretty dresses you would pick out; but 
there Is a little old woman here, who lives down 
under Split Rock Hill — Betty knows her. She 
is a dear friend of ours and has always made my 
dresses or taught me to make them. And I think 
her feelings would be hurt if I got others the 
minute I had a little more money. I’d rather, 
If you don’t mind, buy the goods and let her make 
me some to wear down to the hotel. Or she 
might think I didn’t consider hers good enough 
to wear before the city people. I would not wound 
her.” 

Miss Connie looked a little disappointed, but 
she said, “Yes, dear. I’m sure that you are right 
to be loyal to your friends. And I will buy some 
pretty fabrics and some patterns, and I have no 
doubt your little old lady can make the simple 
frocks you will need for the hotel well enough. 
But I’m going to make It up to myself, by buying 


PLEASANT PLANS 


249 

all your school and dress-up things when we go 
back to the city.” 

“It seems wonderful and glorious to be mak- 
ing plans for Primrose just like other girls,” said 
Betty delightedly. “She is coming down to the 
Inn for my birthday on the nineteenth; isn’t she, 
Mr. Garland? And won’t you please come too? 
I’d love to have you. And so would Primrose.” 

“So would everybody,” said Miss Connie. 

“So say we all of us,” added Mr. Anderson. 

“I’d be an ungrateful sort of fellow, indeed, 
to refuse such an invitation,” said Mr. Garland. 
“Besides, I want to come down to Betty’s party 
very much. I have been a little shy about ap- 
pearing at the Inn; and I am glad that Betty’s 
birthday comes after most of the summer board- 
ers have departed and only those simple-hearted 
lovers of the autumn who stay for the turning 
foliage are here.” 

“It is natural that you should prefer not to 
be made the center of excitement,” said Mr. An- 
derson. “The people who are staying at the Inn 
into the autumn are all old friends of ours who 
have been here, at Apple Tree Inn, with us for 
many seasons. I am sure they will treat you with 
simple frankness and not embarrass you in the 
least.” 

“Well, I must not be oversensitive, especially 


250 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

as I am going back to the city, where it is only 
to be expected that some well-meaning but tact- 
less people will ‘make a fuss,’ ” said Mr. Gar- 
land with a funny grimace. 

“Are you going to our city — to New York to 
live?” cried Betty. 

“Yes. Somewhere around the outskirts of it, 
where we can have trees and a garden and a view 
of hills,” said Mr. Garland. “I do not think that 
we could bear to live all surrounded by bricks 
and mortar, after our mountain life.” 

“Oh, goody, goody, goody!” cried Betty, jump- 
ing up and dancing around on her tiptoes. “We’ll 
see each other all the time. Primrose! And we 
can skate in the Park and read the same books 
and talk about them and we will take you into our 
Saturday Club and I will show you all my friends ; 
but I’ll love you more than any of them; and — 
oh ! — everything !” 

As they all laughed at Betty’s outburst, they 
heard a chuckle. At the entrance to the trail 
stood Joe Silver, looking at them like a good 
genius, as he was. 

Primrose went over to him and took his hand. 

“We’ll think of you all the time, Joe. And, 
remember, we shall be here every summer with 
you.” 

Joe Silver leaned over and looked into her eyes. 


PLEASANT PLANS 


251 

*When did you say you’d be here with me?” he 
asked. 

“Every summer, Joe. Surely — every summer,” 
Primrose reiterated. 

“Wrong!” said Joe Silver. “Every day” 
And he turned and walked off into the cottage 
and got the pail to milk the goats. 

Betty knew that Joe Silver meant that Primrose 
would be with him every day in his thoughts. She 
felt sorry for Joe, so she ran after him and took 
his hand. 

“Sorry for me, eh?” said Joe Silver to her, with 
his slow smile and a chuckle. “Wrong again. 
Pm the happiest man in the hills.” He laughed 
then, but Betty could see that his eyes were a lit- 
tle misty. She patted his hand again and old 
Joe Silver said, “You’re my sort, Elizabeth An- 
derson,” and went on to the goat pen. 

Miss Connie, Mr. Anderson, and Betty went 
home very happy, making plans for the Garlands 
all the way. 

When they reached the Inn Betty went in to 
her mother’s room to tell her “all about it.” 

“Mother, dear,” she said, “it is all happening 
so beautifully! If only we get good news now 
of John Candor’s baby I shall be sure that this 
summer was managed by the fairies.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


Betty’s birthday 

N the day before Betty’s thirteenth birthday 
she received this letter from Robert: 

Cape Wildwind, September i6th. 

My girl, 

This letter you may read now; but the one in 
the sealed envelope which I send inside of this Is 
not to be opened under any circumstances until 
your birthday morning. So restrain your “ ’satia- 
ble curiosity,” Miss I I was afraid to wait until 
the last minute to send it for fear that It might 
come too late. And that would be too dreadful 
— It Is hard enough not to see my lass on her birth- 
day, without missing my chat with her besides. 

Nothing new here, except the ever-changing sea 
and sky — and they’re not so very new, either, now 
that I think about it a little. 

The Captain begins to look a bit disappointed 
at not hearing from Tim, but Mother Candor 
and I tell him that it Is too early for that. Tim 
252 


BETTY’S BIRTHDAY 


253 


may have been locating the neighbor, who may 
have moved to another town by this time. Big 
Tim is not at all a ready letter writer and would 
probably not cable until he has something to tell. 
He is a man of action, and will find news for us 
if there is any to be found, before he writes. 

You’d better believe we shall be thinking of 
you all day long on your birthday, honey. How 
we wish we could be with you for the good times, 
and see Primrose and Miss Connie, too I The 
Candors say Miss Connie is a dear, and I don’t 
mind telling you that I am rather of their opinion 
myself. 

This must be a short and hurry up letter, be- 
cause the furniture is coming and must be un- 
crated. 

Fondly, Bobbert. 

Enclosed in the letter was a tightly glued en- 
velope marked in big, black letters: NOT TO 
BE OPENED UNTIL SEPTEMBER THE 
NINETEENTH. 

Betty knew that it was Robert’s birthday greet- 
ing, so she took it to bed with her on the night 
of the eighteenth that she might open it just as 
soon as possible after she opened her eyes. 

Those bright eyes opened very early indeed on 
Betty’s birthday morning. Strange — is it not? — 


254 the kind adventure 

how early we do awaken on a birthday, on Christ- 
mas, and the Fourth of July! We never need any 
calling on the mornings of those days of happi- 
ness: we will not lose a moment of their good 
times. 

The early sun was just peeping over the hills 
and the birds were calling “Good-morning” and 
“Isn’t it a fine day?” and all their morning chat- 
ter and breaking into gay songs of promise in 
every branching tree. 

“It’s my birthday!” cried Betty with her first 
thought. 

Then she said her morning prayer and drew 
Robert’s envelope from under her pillow and 
read, her cheeks crimsoning with pleasure, her 
eyes shining and every dimple showing; 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! 

When Betty awakes on her birthday morn, the 
sweetest of maidens that ever was born, she will 
know that my heart is already awake and blessing 
the day for my Bettykin’s sake. There isn’t an 
aster that opes in September more dainty and 
gay than the girl I remember; there isn’t an ap- 
ple now ripe on the tree that can seem half as 
sweet as my Betty to me. And the leaves that 


BETTY’S BIRTHDAY 255 

are crimsoning over the hill, they’re ruddy and 
bright, but there’s one brighter still who glad- 
dens September and colors the year with the spirit 
of fun and the lovingest cheer. The goldenrod 
glowing our good country o’er points out the gold 
heart of the girl I adore. There’s nothing so 
lovely and nothing so dear in the woods or the 
meadows this beautiful fall as my precious Bet- 
tinka — I wish she were here! — for everyone 
loves her and she loves them all I May all the 
good times that my Betty has seen in the dozen 
good years now so happily o’er make way for 
still better, now Betty’s thirteen. But she can’t 
be more loved — she was dearest before I 
Especially to her Brother Robert, 
who says, “All blessings to my girl I” 

Betty kissed the letter and said, “Isn’t it dar- 
ling I It begins my birthday just right, as I knew 
Bob’s letter would.” 

Betty was very eager to go into her mother’s 
room and see the presents, which she knew must 
be there. But it was much too early to arouse 
her parents. 

Sleep was out of the question for her and she 
was too full of the day and its promise to re- 
main in her room. So she dressed quickly and 
quietly and went down into the sitting-room to 


256 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

wait by the fire until the grown folk began to 
wake up. 

But it was so very early that she got tired of 
waiting and slipped on her sweater and ran out- 
doors to see what kind of a day her birthday 
was. 

It was gorgeous. The fields were full of asters 
and goldenrod that glistened with dew and morn- 
ing sunshine. The grassy hillsides were dotted 
with fallen apples. The trees in the valley and 
partly up the mountain were gold and scarlet and 
crimson and orange and soft faded greens, and 
the trees ’way up the mountains were evergreens, 
almost black, and above them gray rocks came, 
and one big mountain had a tiny cap of snow. 
The sky was a lovely clear transparent blue and 
the birds were going south across it in great flocks. 
And all about you you could hear the brooks and 
the waterfalls. The cows and sheep and shep- 
herd-dogs went by, going to pasture. 

“Oh I” exclaimed Betty, filling her lungs with 
the sweet, fresh morning air. “It is a dandy 
morning !” 

While Betty stood delighting in the view, some- 
body stole up behind her and put hands over her 
eyes. 

Betty laughed and said, “I know it is you, 
Mother, dear!” and turned around for her birth- 


BETTY’S BIRTHDAY 


257 

day kiss. “I always know when it is you, right 
away. It was dear of you to get up so early.” 

“I thought Birthday Girl would want to see 
her pretties — doesn’t she?” 

“Oh, yes ! I’ve been perishing to see them for 
hours and hours — or at least it seems that long.” 

They went upstairs together. 

Mr. Anderson was shaving, but Betty ran to 
him and got a soapy kiss. Then she flew to the 
window-seat, where her presents were spread out. 

“There’s Bob’s,” said Mrs. Anderson, point- 
ing to a little white velvet box. “I know you 
are wild to know what Brother sent.” 

Betty opened the box and gave a shriek of 

joy- 

“Oh-hl Isn’t it the sweetest thing!” she cried. 

It was a beautiful little necklace of pink coral 
roses. Betty raved over each rose separately, 
from the wee buds at the clasp in the back to 
the wide-open biggest rose in the middle. 

“The shades of pink are just exactly like 
roses!” she said. “I never saw anything so 
sweet !” 

She kept looking at it over and over, then 
clasped it around her neck, where it looked very 
queer on her plain checked gingham frock, and 
turned to her other remembrances. 

Her mother gave her a beautiful set of toilet 


258 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

silver. She said, as Betty kissed her rapturously 
for it, “You are big enough now to take real pride 
in your room and care for it yourself. So I 
thought you would like these dainty lady-like arti- 
cles.” 

“Oh, I do. Mother, dear I And I certainly 
will be proud of them and take care of them. 
Such a pretty comb and brush ! And this mirror 
will never make me vain, because I’ll always be 
looking at the back of it; it’s so pretty. And the 
dear little manicure things and the pin tray!” 

Then came her father’s gift, and Betty was 
almost too overcome to thank him. She could 
only squeeze him tight and kiss him. A whole 
big box of lovely books ! Poets — that Betty loved 
and Primrose knew so well! 

“Glad you’re so pleased, daughter,” Mr. An- 
derson said. “They are a reward of merit be- 
cause you have been good and have obeyed me so 
sweetly in going without much reading this sum- 
mer, as I asked you.” 

“They’re lovely, dear,” rejoiced Betty, read- 
ing the titles and admiring the pretty bindings. 
Then, “Oh, you love of a Daddy!” she cried glee- 
fully. For she had found a gray suede volume, 
bearing the title: Balaustion^s Adventure, by Rob- 
ert Browning. 

They went down into the dining-room and 


BETTY’S BIRTHDAY 259 

Betty was deeply touched to see great bunches of 
goldenrod and asters placed on all the tables and 
tied on all the posts. “Just as if it were George 
Washington’s birthday, or Somehody^s, instead of 
only mine!” she said. 

Everybody in the hotel loved little Betty, who 
had been so willing to serve all the grown-ups 
and to play Mr. Shiver Strings for their pleasure, 
and was always so cheery and good-tempered. 
And everybody in the house had made her some- 
thing “woodsy and nice,” as Betty put it, and set 
it at her place. 

There was a fern-dish of birch bark in which 
wintergreen vines were growing, all the shiny 
green leaves set off by bright pink and white and 
cardinal berries. There were a rustic pencil-box 
and a petrified-leaf paper-weight, and perfect 
pressed leaves and ferns, and ever so many other 
things, all lovely. 

Betty went to each guest and made her curtsy 
and said, “Thank you,” as she read the name on 
her gift. But her happy face thanked the givers 
more than her words did. 

“My dear Miss Connie!” Betty cried, as she 
opened a tissue-paper parcel and a rainbow fell 
out — at least it seemed like a rainbow. It was 
the beautiful rainbow scarf from Naples that 


26 o the kind adventure 


Betty always liked better than any other of Miss 
Connie’s pretty tissues. 

She did not know just what to say when she 
opened Mrs. Althorpe’s present, for it was the 
“grown-uppest” thing! A bag for evening slip- 
pers. Of course, Betty was not allowed to go to 
evening parties, but she said the sweetest and po- 
litest thing she could think of, “Thank you so 
much, Mrs. Althorpe. This will give me some- 
thing to look forward to.” 

Everybody smiled, but Mrs. Althorpe was 
greatly pleased and said, “She has tact. She will 
be a success some of these days.” 

After that happy breakfast was over, Betty’s 
mother said, “The upper button of your frock 
keeps opening, Betty. Go up to your room and 
bring one of your little neck-pins so that I can 
fasten it.” 

Betty ran upstairs for the pin; and opened the 
door of her room and stood stock-still with amaze- 
ment. 

Right in the middle of the room was something 
tall and flat, like a screen, covered with paper. 

Betty thought it was probably another birthday 
surprise, but she was not sure and did not know 
whether or not to unwrap it. She looked it over 
carefully, however, and found that it was ad- 
dressed to her. 


BETTY’S BIRTHDAY 261 

Of course, she was greatly excited and opened 
it quickly. 

Then — Betty actually cried for joy — it was Mr. 
Garland’s wonderful picture of Primrose ! The 
one he had painted for love and would never, 
never sell! 

“It is mine — for my very own!” cried Betty. 
“Primrose in her dear, faded, blue gingham dress, 
just as I have seen her so many times, listening 
to the birds, with the bluebells at her feet and 
the blue sky overhead!” 

In her rapture, Betty forgot all about the neck- 
pin she had gone upstairs to find, and ran down- 
stairs again — or, rather, she floated down like 
Alice, for she was sure she never touched the 
steps — to tell her mother how happy she was. 

And there was her darling Primrose herself; 
and Mr. Garland too ! 

“We have come to wish you a happy birthday,” 
said Mr. Garland. 

“I think you have come to bring me one,” said 
Betty. “Anyway, your wish has certainly come 
true. And, oh, I do thank you a million times for 
my precious picture of Primrose. I just couldn’t 
believe it was really mine. It is just too won- 
derful! I am happy, happy, happy over it. I’d 
rather have it than anything else in the whole 
wide world!” 


262 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


The guests at the Inn were very considerate 
of Mr. Garland; he soon found himself greatly 
enjoying their society and glad to be back in the 
world again. They were sweet to Primrose, too, 
and treated her so naturally that she forgot her 
shyness and seemed almost as much at home as 
Betty did. 

Primrose, Betty, and Amico played together all 
the happy day. Betty pretended to be a moun- 
tain guide and showed Primrose the places she 
knew and loved, close to the Inn, that Primrose 
had never seen. They walked up Cedar Brook 
on the stones, and Betty pointed out the log on 
which Miss Connie had been sitting on the won- 
derful morning when Betty brought her to the 
Garlands. They climbed Summer House Slope 
and the Sand Hill. There they read some of 
Betty’s new books, in the little circle of rocks, 
back on the Sand Hill summit, that Betty called 
her library. It is ’way up on the top of the world 
where you can see ranges and ranges of moun- 
tains. They settled themselves with their books 
in the little shady corners or right in the bright 
sunshine, and Betty said, “It seems like a dream 
to be here with you. Primrose. For this library is 
the place where I have so often sat with my pad 
in my lap, spending the morning with Robert— 
writing to him about you.” 


BETTY’S BIRTHDAY 


263 

At luncheon time Joe Silver arrived. He was 
waiting for them on the porch as they came from 
the table. He had some packages with him, which 
he said The Old Woman Who Lives Under the 
Hill had sent for Betty’s birthday. Betty could 
not imagine how the little old lady knew about 
her birthday, and she opened the big packages 
in wonder. There were a great jar of pickles 
and two squares of honey in comb and a per- 
fectly tremendous basket of apples that were al- 
mast as big as melons. Betty was grateful for 
the thought and for the “goodies” and bade Joe 
tell the old lady so. 

Then Joe Silver asked Betty, “Are you happy?” 

“Very, very, very happy, Joe.” 

“May you be ever sol I have no gee-gaws 
that you would like for a present. But I have 
already given you this for my present,” and he 
put his hand on Primrose’s head. “I want you 
to know, though, that my love to you goes with 
It.” 

Betty thought that for Joe Silver to make such 
a long and tender speech was a birthday present 
in itself. She told him that his present of Prim- 
rose was the very best one of all and that she 
was glad of his love and thanked him for it and 
loved him, too. 

Joe Silver had to go up the mountain to tend 


264 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

the goats and the pigeon, because Mr. Garland 
and Primrose and Amico were going to spend the 
night at Apple Tree Inn. 

“Be sure to come back yourself, Joe,” Betty 
urged. “Because we are going to have a candy 
pull to-night and we can’t do without you.” 

Joe merely grunted, but they could see that 
he was pleased and intended to accept the invi- 
tation. 

The candy pull was held in the old, big, brick- 
floored kitchen, with its heavy rafters hung with 
pungent bunches of drying herbs. The massive 
stove was almost red hot and there was a roaring 
fire in the huge fireplace too. The low, stone- 
jambed doors and windows were flung open wide 
to the cool moonlight night. The oil lamps shone 
brightly in their highly polished tin and copper 
brackets. It was all in all a pleasant and inviting 
place. Piles of apples and cookies on the shelves 
— free for everybody — and great cool jugs of 
sweet cider on trays full of glasses, in the corners, 
added to the charm. 

Soon Betty’s guests began to arrive, the An- 
dersons and the Garlands and the Althorpes and 
all the other summer boarders and the good peo- 
ple who kept the Inn and their “help” and Joe 
Silver and The Old Woman Who Lives Under 
the Hill came first. But soon wagons came roll- 


BETTY’S BIRTHDAY 265 

Ing up to the door to the sound of merry laughter, 
and all the neighboring farmers and their families 
crowded in through the low doorway. 

Such hearty greetings and lusty jests and loud, 
friendly bursts of laughter! Everyone had 
something pleasant to say to Betty because it was 
her birthday and to Primrose because the news 
of the changes in her life had gone abroad and 
they were all happy for her sake. 

Soon the syrup was stirring to a boil and smell- 
ing delicious. The party was divided into sec- 
tions. Some shelled nuts, some prepared the pop- 
corn for the popper, some buttered plates and 
pans and “parceled out” the dabs of butter and 
flour. In a little while everything was ready and 
the syrup was ready too, and the corn was begin- 
ning to pop over the great open fire. 

Such scattering in of nuts and spreading candy 
into pans and setting out of doors to cool 1 Such 
excitement when the fat pug would come too close 
to the cooling pans of syrup I Such rivalry when 
the pulling began! Everyone swore that his or 
her product would be the whitest and crispest. 
Just wait and see ! 

Primrose and Betty pulled theirs together. 
They worked as hard and as steadily as they 
could. They were sure that their candy would 
be judged the fairest. It was getting white and 


266 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


lovely. But they hurried too much, and the candy 
that got the prize was Joe Silver’s ! He was the 
only one who had not boasted of his while it 
was making. He had not tried very hard 
either. But his long, slow, powerful, even pulls 
made his candy as light as taffy and as flaky as 
snow. The prize was a cook-book called “Candy 
Making.” Joe looked it over with a funny ex- 
pression when they gave it to him and said, 
“Thanks. I’ll read this in the woods when I’m 
hungry.” 

When the candy was all made and was vanish- 
ing quickly, the men sat around the fire and told 
yarns of the mountains, “in the old days before 
the city folks got to coming” — bear stories and 
panther stories and fish stories and just story- 
stories about people. They were so exciting that 
Betty declared she would never sleep again, and 
Primrose’s eyes kept getting bigger and bigger. 
Primrose’s face was so radiant with delight and 
the wonder and strangeness of everything that 
Mr. Garland kept looking at her joyfully. Every 
little while he would ask his little daughter 
whether she was happy. And when Primrose re- 
plied so promptly and gaily, “Yes, indeed T* his 
eyes would beam with pleasure and thankfulness. 

Betty thought that there never could have been 
a happier birthday and had just said, “I do not be- 


BETTY’S BIRTHDAY 267 

lieve I could possibly hold any more happiness,” 
when her words were put to the test. 

The last wagon from the village drove up and 
the driver came in, in the midst of the fun, and 
gave Betty a box that had come by express. It con- 
tained a lovely little pearl ring from the Candors. 

Betty ran to show it to her mother. “Please 
keep it for me,” she said. “I cannot put it on 
now because I’m too sticky. Isn’t it beautiful? 
Wasn’t it dear of them to send it? The little 
note said that a sea-fairy made it, and I’m sure it 
looks as if one did!” 

When all the celebration was over and the last 
of the visitors had driven away and the last of 
the house people had gone to their rooms and 
Betty had kissed Primrose good-night and gone 
to hers, she sat at her little table and wrote a short, 
sleepy note to her brother: 

Apple Tree Inn, September 19th. 
Robert dear, 

A sleepy, happy Betty, who cannot go to bed 
on her happiest birthday night without speaking 
to you, says “Thank you” for your lovely present 
and your lovely letter and your dear, dear self — 
and will write to you to-morrow. 

Your grown-up (?) sister, 

Elizabeth Anderson, age thirteen. 


268 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


Her parents came for their in-bed kisses and 
looked proudly down on their weary girl, who 
sighed delightedly and said, “That was the hap- 
piest birthday that ever was in the world. I 
wish I could be half good enough to deserve all 
the love that people give me.” 

And a grateful, joyful, thirteen-year-old Betty 
dropped off to slumber. 


CHAPTER XX 


THE LITTLE BLUE BOOK 

T T was definitely decided that Betty should go 
to Cape Wildwind for the Candors’ house- 
warming, but the details had not yet been ar- 
ranged, when Betty received this letter: 

Cape Wildwind, September 2 2d. 

My great, big, grown-up Sister, 

I had every bit of your happy birthday with 
you as I read your joyous letter, Betty Beloved. 
It made me happy too, as, of course, you know. 
And I was very deeply touched and pleased that 
my sleepy Sisterkin could not sleep at the end of 
that most exciting day without sending a birthday 
good-night to her big brother. 

And now I have news for you. Tim Andrews 
cabled. He found the neighbor after some dif- 
ficulty and she remembered that the little blue 
Bible had been sent to Boston to some number 
on Marlborough Street. It seems that she could 
269 


270 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

not remember the number. This is a very slight 
clew after such a lapse of time since the book 
was sent; but early next week Captain Candor 
and I are going to Boston to try to hunt it down. 

You must write as soon as you get this, dear, 
if you can, to say when I should meet you in New 
York, as I shall probably come right from Bos- 
ton to that happy meeting. 

I hope that we may not have to injure the 
housewarming by bringing only disappointment 
from Boston. I try to feel sure that we shall not 
— but there seems so little chance of finding a 
little Miss Candor and a blue Bible in all of 
great big Boston. 

We can but do our best and have trust. 

Betty, dear, I think I know why you have felt 
so often as if you had seen Miss Connie before 
you met her this summer. As I looked at the lit- 
tle kodak picture of her in the daisy field the 
reason came to me. That little marble bust of 
Clyte that I keep on my study table because I 
think it is the sweetest of faces! Your Miss Con- 
nie looks like that. Isn’t that what you remem- 
bered and yet did not quite remember when you 
saw her? 

Greetings from the sea to the hills and from 
my heart to thine! 


Your B. B. B. 


THE LITTLE BLUE BOOK 271 

“Mother,” asked Betty, “who is to take me to 
New York to meet Bob? And when am I to 
start? Robert wants to know quickly, because he 
has to go to Boston early next week — you’ll see 
all about it in the letter — and he would like to 
come to New York right after that for me, if 
possible. I know Father says that he would gladly 
go down on the boat to New York with me. But 
I’d hate to break into his vacation.” 

“Of course, he’d be glad to go, dear. But I 
feel as you do, that it will be better for him if 
we can make some other arrangement. For if 
he gets to the city I fear he will go to his office 
and do some work instead of returning to the hills 
immediately. And he needs a good, long, un- 
broken rest. I shall take you myself, unless some 
of our friends here should return to New York 
at the right time. I am sure any of the ladies 
would be willing to have you in her charge. I 
am not certain, but I think something was said 
about the Althorpes going down next week. Per- 
haps you would like to inquire of Miss Connie.” 

“Oh! I’d love to go with Miss Connie. Do 
you think she — or Mrs. Althorpe would mind 
taking me?” 

“Why, I think not, dear. We shall request 
them to be very frank about it. I’m sure you 
would try to be no trouble to them. It would 


272 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


really imply nothing more than getting you a 
stateroom opening into theirs and just keeping an 
eye on you. For n)y capable little lady can do 
all her own dressing and buttoning up.” 

“Well, if they keep just one eye on me, I hope 
it will be Miss Connie’s eye,” laughed Betty. “But 
I think I can behave well enough to be with Mrs. 
Althorpe a day and a night. I always feel as 
if the Principal had come into the schoolroom to 
inspect, when Mrs. Althorpe comes. Well, the 
Althorpes are out this morning. They are going 
to a luncheon party in Elizabethtown. Prim- 
rose and I are going to Split Rock for our last 
sewing lesson of the summer. We’ll be home for 
luncheon, and after luncheon, when Miss Connie 
comes back. I’ll ask her when she’s going to the 
city. And, if it should be the right time, you 
can speak to her. I do hope she can take me, and 
save you the trip. Mother. — Oh ! Here comes 
Primrose! But where are her frocks? We were 
to alter Primrose’s gingham dresses for a little 
girl that The Old Woman Under the Hill knows. 
But Primrose has no bundle. Oh-h! Look at 
Amico, Mother! He’s carrying Primrose’s bun- 
dles!” 

Amico was coming down the road, in his grave, 
graceful manner; a large bundle was tied upon his 


THE LITTLE BLUE BOOK 273 

back and he carried a small one in his mouth by 
the string. 

Betty laughed. 

“I always thought Amico was like a person as 
well as a dog,” she said, “and now he is like a 
pony too. I’ll run meet them and we can go right 
over to our lesson. Good-bye, Mother.” 

It was delightful to walk freely along the road 
with Primrose, feeling that all the puzzles were 
at an end. 

When they came to the long flat stretch where 
the road runs alongside of the little, shallow, peb- 
bly river, the girls took Amico’s bundles from 
him, so that he might dart through the stream as 
he loved to do. 

When they reached the little house under the 
hill the old lady was not at home, but she had left 
two ginger cookies wrapped in paper on her little 
bench and a note saying simply : Wait. 

So they sat down under one of the apple-trees, 
munching their cake and throwing bits to Ami- 
co, who wagged his tail gratefully. 

“I wonder what little girl the dresses are for,” 
said Primrose. “I cannot think of any family 
around here who might need them. I asked Joe 
Silver if he knew for whom my dresses were to be 
altered, and he chuckled and said, ‘Yes’ in that 


274 the kind adventure 

funny, all-finished way he has, so that I didn’t 
ask him any more.” 

“The thing that bothers me,” said Betty, “is 
how we can make the dresses fit the little girl 
without seeing her. Mother says it’s sometimes 
harder fo alter things so they fit than it is to make 
new ones. I believe that if the little girl could 
see her two seamstresses, she’d rather wear the 
dresses as they are than risk what we might do 
to them.” 

“Maybe the old lady has gone to take her 
measure,” Primrose suggested. “It certainly 
seems strange to think that my frocks will keep 
on going around in these woods when I am in the 
city.” 

“Doesn’t it? I hope it will be a sweet girl who 
wears them. For your dresses — especially the 
blue gingham ones — just seem a part of you to 
me. Primrose.” 

“Here comes our teacher now. We shall soon 
know all about it.” 

Their little sewing teacher came briskly down 
the slope and after a short, “Morning! Morn- 
ing!” went straight to business and began open- 
ing the bundles and examining the dresses. 

Betty had been a little bit astonished that The 
Old Woman Under the Hill had never said any- 
thing to her about her part in getting the Gar- 


THE LITTLE BLUE BOOK 275 


lands off of the mountain. But she remembered 
her former preachment, that it was silly to ex- 
pect praise for doing our duty, and supposed 
that that was the reason for her silence. 

Therefore she was quite startled when the Old 
Woman turned to her very suddenly in the midst 
of looking over the dresses, and said, “Elizabeth! 
I knew you were a Can Person! Proud to be a 
friend of yours,” and then went on talking about 
the frocks. 

Primrose shouted to her deaf little teacher, 
“How are we going to tell what size to make 
them?” 

“By doing the hardest thing little girls know — 
waiting to find out,” was the reply. Then the 
Old Woman added, “Go on outside, now, and 
wait, while I try the dresses on the person they 
are intended for.” 

“Try them on her — here? Is the little girl 
here?” called out both the pupils at once. 

“If she is you will see her,” was all the answer 
they received. So they laughed and looked at 
each other wonderingly and went outside to wait 
as they were bidden. 

“I don’t believe anybody’s there; do you?” 
began Betty. 

Primrose knit her brows. 

“I cannot see where anybody could be hidden 


276 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

— or why anybody should be hidden. But she cer- 
tainly said she was going to try the dresses on 
someone; didn’t she?” 

Just then the Old Woman called out, “Come, 
see how they fit!” and the little girls ran in as 
quickly as they could. 

And there was The Old Woman Who Lives 
Under the Hill laughing heartily, standing in the 
middle of the room in one of Primrose Garland’s 
dresses. 

It fit her almost perfectly, needing only to have 
the hem let down a trifle. For she was a very 
little old woman, indeed. 

Primrose and Betty laughed heartily too. 

“Are they for you, yourself?” they cried. 

Their teacher nodded. 

“I needed ’em. And I knew Primrose’d like 
me to have ’em — eh?” 

Primrose gave an eager assent to that, and the 
Old Woman continued, “And they’re so faded and 
dull I won’t feel out of place in pink and blue 
instead of gray. Well, well, well! First time it 
paid to be so little since I fell out of a tree and 
stuck on a snag and couldn’t reach the rocks with 
my head.” 

Primrose kissed her and said she was delighted 
to have her wear her dresses. Then the girls set 
to work, ripping out hems and making new ones, 


THE LITTLE BLUE BOOK 277 


while their teacher busied herself with Primrose’s 
new dresses of the pretty fabrics Miss Connie 
had bought. 

The morning went busily and happily and soon 
it was time to go to the Inn for luncheon. 

All the sharpness went out of the Old Woman’s 
manner as she said “Good-bye” to her pupils; for 
it was Primrose’s last sewing lesson and she knew 
that it would be lonely in the little house under 
the hill when Primrose’s gentle presence did not 
come there to brighten it. 

Primrose realized what her good, little, old 
friend was feeling and she said in her clearest 
tones, close to her side, “This is only the last 
lesson until next summer, you know.” 

The old lady’s eyes grew moist as she kissed 
her. Then she kissed Betty too, and followed 
them to the turn in the road and stood on her 
stone for a long time waving to them and shouting, 
“Good-bye, Primrose. Good-bye, Elizabeth. Be 
on time for the next lesson, early in June.” 

Primrose was quiet and thoughtful on the way 
home, for she loved The Little Old Woman 
Under the Hill who had been so kind to her. 

Betty felt tenderly, too, at the parting, but 
she soon began to think about Miss Connie’s re- 
turn that afternoon and to wonder whether the 
Althorpes would take her to meet Robert. 


278 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


When luncheon was over and Primrose and 
Amico had departed, Betty sat in the hammock 
with one of her new birthday books — for now 
she was allowed to read again as often as she 
liked — to wait for the Althorpes’ return. 

As their carriage drove up at last and the Al- 
thorpes entered the house, Mrs. Anderson said 
to Betty, “Wait, my dear, until Miss Connie has 
had a chance to bathe and rest. For the roads 
to Bettytown are very dusty to-day.” 

Betty dutifully waited what seemed ages to her 
until Mrs. Althorpe came down to the porch all 
fresh and smart in a crisp new frock. Then she 
went upstairs to Miss Connie’s room and knocked 
at her door. 

Miss Connie called out, “Who is there?” 

“It’s Betty.” 

“Come in, my dear.” 

And Betty walked in, not knowing that she was 
entering the greatest adventure of her life. 

Miss Connie was sitting by the window read- 
ing. She motioned to Betty to sit beside her and 
put the book between them on the window-seat. 

Betty glanced down at the book, as all book- 
lovers do, and she saw that it was a little blue 
Bible. 

Now, Bibles in blue silk bindings are not com- 
mon, and, besides, Betty remembered what Rob- 


THE LITTLE BLUE BOOK 279 

ert had said, that she should look inside of every 
blue Bible she saw, hoping for the right one to 
cross her path some day. 

So she said timidly, “If you please. Miss Con- 
nie, may I look at that little book?” 

Miss Connie picked up the book and held it 
a moment, then she said seriously, “Yes, little 
Betty, you may; because you are my friend. Only 
my friends may see that book, my dear, because 
it is very precious.” 

Betty kissed Miss Connie for calling her her 
friend, for she felt very proud of that. And 
she took the book, as Miss Connie offered it to 
her, and opened it gently and carefully, and 
turned to the fly-leaf and saw there, in a fine, 
faded, old handwriting: To John, who cannot 
sail so far as to pass the boundaries of Mother^s 
love. 

Betty felt all quivery. She felt herself grow 
pale. Her hands trembled so that she could hard- 
ly hold the little volume. But she said firmly, 
“That is John Candor’s Bible.” 

Then Miss Connie began to quiver too and 
she got paler than Betty and asked in a shaking 
voice : 

“What do you know about John Candor?” 

Betty tried to tell her. She did not know how 
to begin and she was so excited she could not make 


28 o the kind adventure 


herself very clear. Right in the midst of Betty’s 
speaking, Miss Connie called out, “Grandmother, 
Grandmother!” and Betty ran down to the porch 
to get Mrs. Althorpe and brought her back to 
Miss Connie’s room. 

Betty tried again. Miss Connie was as white 
as paper and Mrs. Althorpe was as red as could 
be. They tried to make Betty tell it quietly, but 
she could not. She was so worked up. 

So Miss Connie sent one of the maids for Bet- 
ty’s mother. 

Mrs. Anderson was always cool and serene; 
she said calmly — though inwardly she was ex- 
cited and thrilled too when she realized what had 
happened — “I will tell you all about it myself. 
I think Betty had best go into her own room and 
lie down for a while. Mother will come and 
tell you, dear, whatever there is that can be 
told. But you are overwrought now and must be 
quiet.” 

“Yes — I will. Mother,” said obedient Betty. 
“But there is one thing I must do, if you’ll let me. 
Please, please, please. Mother, dear! Let me 
telegraph to Robert right away that the blue Bi- 
ble has been found. Please!” 

“Very well, dear. And then go straight to your 
room and rest until Mother comes.” 

So Betty went down into the office and asked 


THE LITTLE BLUE BOOK 281 


for a telegraph blank and wrote with trembling 
fingers : 

Apple Tree Inn, September 23d. 

To Mr. Robert Anderson, 

Hotel Hillard, Cape Wildwind. 

The blue Bible is found. A letter is coming. 
Love. 


Betty. 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE candors’ grandchild 

"DETTY said afterward that the time she lay 
on the bed, waiting for her mother to come, 
seemed longer than a year. She was so anxious 
to know how Miss Connie Althorpe got the Can- 
dors’ Bible and whether it would lead to the find- 
ing of John Candor’s baby, that she thought she 
simply could not wait in patience. But Betty 
knew that her mother did not wish her to get 
overexcited, so she tried to be as quiet as she 
could and think of other things. But, of course, 
she did not succeed very well. 

When at last Mrs. Anderson came into Betty’s 
room, Betty thought that her mother looked over- 
excited herself. For her cheeks were bright and 
her eyes glowing. 

“Oh I I’m glad you’ve come! I nearly died 
waiting. May I know all about it. Mother?” 

“Yes, dear, everything. Only lie quietly while 
Mother tells you. Once upon a time, Betty, there 
was a very fashionable American family who went 
282 


THE CANDORS’ GRANDCHILD 283 

to live in England. They liked things very proper 
and splendid and thought that fashionable English 
things and English customs and people would be 
more so than those they found at home.” 

“Mrs. Althorpe?” ventured Betty. 

“Now wait, dear, and listen,” said her mother, 
smiling. “All the members of this family cared 
a great deal for style and propriety and form 
and class distinctions except one daughter. She 
was very simple-hearted and loved plain folks and 
preferred simple living and hated so many re- 
ceptions and grand, formal entertainments and 
all the rest of it. 

“This daughter and her mother did not under- 
stand each other very well and sometimes had 
unhappy times, though they loved each other 
dearly. For, when her mother took her to party 
after party, the daughter was longing for a gar- 
den and the seashore or a tramp in the hills. 
And when the mother went to these plain pleas- 
ures with her daughter she found herself unable 
to enjoy them and wished for her carriage and 
her brilliant dinners instead. 

“So, at last, they were not together very often, 
but the daughter made friends of her own sort and 
did not ‘play’ very much with the rest of her 
fashionable family. 

“Soon she met a young sailor and fell in love 


284 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

with him and married him. He was a very well 
educated, well-bred, good young man and not 
rough or uncouth at all. He came from fine, hon- 
est American stock ” 

“John Candor!” whispered Betty. 

Her mother only smiled and continued. “But 
the fashionable family never found out how pleas- 
ant a gentleman this sailor was, never knew that 
he was a man of whom they need not be ashamed. 
They never were even willing to meet him. They 
thought that all men who followed the sea must 
be crude and uncultivated and it was enough for 
them that this daughter had married a sailor. 
They felt that she had disgraced them and they 
were very angry and went away from England, 
home to America, for they thought that they 
could never face their English friends again. 

“That must have grieved the daughter, of 
course. But she and her sailor husband loved 
each other and were happy together. But on one 
of his voyages he was drowned. And the young 
wife died, too, leaving a little baby girl behind 
her. 

“When the sad news reached the young wife’s 
fashionable mother, she came and got the little 
child from the neighbor who was taking care of 
it. The fashionable family brought the baby up 
and called it by their own name, instead of the 


THE CANDORS’ GRANDCHILD 285 

name of its sailor father, whose people they did 
not know or seek, at that time, to find.” 

A great thought had been dawning, fairly burst- 
ing in Betty’s mind. 

“Mother!” she exclaimed. “What is Miss 
Connie Althorpe’s really, truly name?” 

“Joan Constance Candor!” 

“After John Constant Candor! Oh, it must 
be true ! Oh, it is true ! My darling Miss Con- 
nie is John Candor’s baby and Mother and Cap- 
tain Candor’s own true grandchild! Oh!” 

“Yes, yes, it is true. Let us give thanks, dear, 
— especially for poor Mrs. Althorpe.” 

“For — whom, mother?” asked Betty in sur- 
prise. 

“For Mrs. Althorpe, my dear. For I think 
she has suffered the most; she has been very 
penitent, and has regretted in sorrow for many, 
many years that she was so stern to her daughter 
and to John Candor. She has long tried to find 
some trace of Miss Connie’s relations. She 
doesn’t care as much for showy outside things as 
she used to and she is deeply happy and relieved 
that the Candors are found.” 

Betty looked a little dubious. 

“Well, I’m glad for her, then,” she said. “But, 
oh, I’m a million, billion, trillion, quadrillion 
times gladder for Miss Connie’s other grand- 


286 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


mother. I can’t help It, Mother. Dear Mother 
Candor will be so happy ! Isn’t it wonderful that 
Miss Connie is the Candors’ grandchild and Prim- 
rose’s cousin too? I wish she were something to 
me.” 

“So she is, dear. She is a loving friend. You 
may be sure that she will love you forever for 
being the means of finding her father’s people. 
She and Mrs. Althorpe are resting now. I am 
going in to talk to them a little while. Then they 
will write to the Candors and I will write to 
Robert and explain all the wonderful happenings 
and our girl’s part in them. There will not be 
another wagon going down until late this even- 
ing. So there will be lots of time for our letters. 
We need not hurry to write them. What will you 
do, dear?” 

Betty laughed. 

“If you will give me a dime for a special de- 
livery stamp,” she said, “I’m going to write a 
note to Bob this very, hurriest instant and get 
mine off first. This minute! I want to be the 
one to tell him.” 

“But there is no wagon going down, child!” 

“H’m. I don’t need a wagon. I’ll go on to 
the village on the back of a farmer’s cart. Mother, 
— or walk, if none comes along. I can’t possibly 
wait.” 


THE CANDORS’ GRANDCHILD 287 

On the tail of the next farmer’s cart that went 
jogging down the dusty road sat a hatless, brown- 
haired little girl, smiling radiantly, with joy beam- 
ing in every dimple, and a letter held tightly in 
her hand. 

The letter said: 


Apple Tree Inn, Joy Day. 

O Robert! 

My darling Miss Connie is John Candor’s 
baby. 

We have found her for dear Mother Candor 
and the Captain. 

Her real name is Joan Constance Candor and 
not Althorpe at all. 

They are all writing to you and to the Can- 
dors. But they are talking and talking. So mine 
is done first and I am the one to tell you. 

I must run now to get a ride on a farmer’s 
cart and catch the very first mail that goes. 

Anyway, I am too happy to talk about it. 

Your 

Betty in a beautiful dream. 


CHAPTER XXII 


HOW THE CANDORS RECEIVED THE NEWS 


1\TRS. ALTHORPE, Miss Connie, and all 
the Andersons were very eager for the 
first mail from Cape Wildwind. 

Miss Connie had been looking forward with 
tenderest anticipations to her first letter from her 
father’s people, from her newly found grandpar- 
ents. 


Ah! We know the Candors well enough now 
to be sure that it was a sweet, welcoming, beauti- 
ful letter, a letter that made the granddaughter 
feel herself a real part of their family, a real 
child of their heart. They told her all about 
her father, and what a good son and worthy man 
he had been and how their hearts had brooded 
over him all these years and how the hope of 
seeing her and loving her had been the dearest 
hope of their lives. 

They wrote kind little notes to Mrs. Althorpe, 
too, that made that severe old lady soften very 
much and wipe her eyes and say that she regretted 


RECEIVING THE NEWS 289 


more and more her cold bitterness that long ago 
had kept her from knowing them from the be- 
ginning. 

There were good letters for Mr. and Mrs. An- 
derson, also. 

But Betty thought that her letter from Robert 
must certainly be the best of all. In the first 
place, it contained a little note from Mother Can- 
dor to Mr. Garland and Primrose, inviting Prim- 
rose to the housewarming with Betty! And, in 
the second place, it was a good letter in itself 
and told what Betty was wishing to know — how 
the Candors received the good news: 

Cape Wildwind, September 26th. 

Fairy Godmother Betty, 

It is good to be alive in such a happy world 
with everything just right in it. It is wonder- 
ful, blessed, and to be praised for with halle- 
lujahs. 

And it is good, better, best to be the brother 
of a little lass who helps to make things so fine 
and splendid. 

When your telegram came I was dazed. I did 
not see how it could be true. But I knew that 
my careful Elizabeth is always accurate in her 
statements and would never say anything to give 


igo THE KIND ADVENTURE 

false hopes, even the tiniest bit. So your repu- 
tation helped me to believe that this miraculous 
thing was so. 

Thus fortified, I ran the whole way to the 
Candor cottage. It seemed that the distance was 
greater than I had ever thought it. I couldn’t 
wait until I got there. I sprinted my best. 

Mother Candor was on the porch, calmly buy- 
ing vegetables from a vendor. Captain Candor 
was on the roof mending a place that needed it. 
Just as if nothing had happened! 

The good little lady saw the yellow paper in 
my hand and the joyous excitement in my face. 
In accord with her habit of thinking of others 
before herself, she jumped to the conclusion that 
I had some particularly fine news of my own to 
tell her. She came to meet me, after finishing 
with the vendor, laughing with pleased anticipa- 
tion and asked me what good news I had to 
tell. 

“For,” said she, “your eyes look exactly like 
a torchlight parade, and I’m sure it is something 
splendid.” 

I waited until she was seated in her porch 
rocker, for I was afraid of the shock’s upsetting 
her. 

I said, “Yes, dear little mother, — the very best 
news in the world.” 


RECEIVING THE NEWS 


291 

She looked at me closely a second. She seemed 
to feel, then, what was coming. 

“Of John’s child I” she whispered. 

“Good news of John’s daughter,” I replied and 
was about to show her the telegram. But she 
put out her hand to stop me. 

“Wait,” she said. “We must not go on with- 
out Father. I do not wish to learn the good news 
before he does.” 

Then we called the Captain down from the 
roof and I showed them the telegram. 

Mother Candor took the good news quite calm- 
ly, although her eyes were brimming and the pink 
of her pretty cheeks about ten shades deeper 
than usual. 

“I always expected it,” said she. 

But the Captain who had braved so many dan- 
gers of the deep, the Captain who had faced all 
life’s troubles with such a courageous front, sat 
down on the cottage steps and put his head in 
his hands and sobbed for joy as if he could never 
stop. Mother Candor sat down beside him and 
put her hand on his shaggy head and said, “There, 
there, my dear. You are going to have your re- 
ward at last.” So I slipped away. This was not 
a time for even the lovingest intrusion. 

In the afternoon began our guesses and won- 
derings. We simply couldn’t imagine what you 


292 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

had found or whom; whether you had stumbled 
upon only the blue Bible or had really found 
John’s child or some trace of her. 

Almost immediately Mother Candor guessed 
the truth. She said she felt in her bones it was 
“sweet Connie” — that nothing else would explain 
the great love she had felt for her from the mo- 
ment she had heard about her, and the impulse 
she had had to keep her picture, as something 
specially belonging to her. She was quite posi- 
tive that that was the solution and told us not 
to disturb ourselves with guessing further, because 
it was all settled. I think she might have been 
a little disappointed if it had turned out differ- 
ently. The Captain and I scarcely dared hope for 
anything so perfect; but Mother Candor had no 
doubt whatever. 

Since your dear little letter and afterward all 
the other great letters came, they have been the 
happiest people alive. And all their sons and 
daughters and grandchildren are as excited as 
they. John must have meant very much to his 
sisters and brothers, for they look forward to 
meeting his daughter with something more than 
aunt and uncle affection — it is because she is his 
daughter that she is so precious to them. 

Of course you know that Miss Connie is com- 
ing with yoii to the housewarming — the heart- 


RECEIVING THE NEWS 293 

warming, Captain Candor calls It. But you do not 
know that the Candors have written to Mr. Gar- 
land — ^you will find their note enclosed in this let- 
ter — and invited Primrose to come, too. Do try 
to get her to come with you and Miss Connie, so 
that we may all be together in that new home of 
delight. 

We think it sweet and right of Mrs. Althorpe 
to have written that she will follow and will come 
to Wildwind, too, before that week of festivity is 
over. She says she wants very much to know the 
Candors and to love them. And she accepted the 
blame for all the difficult years that have passed. 
So, Mrs. Althorpe has a warm, good heart under 
her cold and fashionable exterior; and that proves 
that we mustn’t judge people by their outsides, 
but try to be sure we understand before we make 
up our minds about them; doesn’t it? 

We are working in a glow of joy, getting the 
new house ready for that joyous occasion coming 
now so soon, when the Candors and I are to have 
our three visitors, and the new house is to be 
opened in its beauty. I won’t tell you anything 
about the preparations, for that would spoil the 
surprise. But it will be dandy, Betty Bounce, and 
your eyes will be like Mother Candor’s torchlight 
procession. 

I am instructed to tell you that Mr. Shiver 


294 the kind adventure 

Strings is especially invited, and that we are all 
eager to have him of the party. I told the Can- 
dors that you would be glad to bring him, because 
you always play your violin “for joy and not for 
showing off,” as you said a few years ago. And 
there will be joy here, you’d better believe. 

Even the ocean seems joyful to-day, and makes 
me think of what Kipling says of his own ocean, 
’way over in Asia : 

The Injian ocean sets and smiles, 

So sof so bright, so bloomin’ blue ! 

My heart is settin’ an’ smilin’, too — because 
Fm telling it and if s telling me that Betty is com- 
ing to her B. B. B. 

Betty met her father and mother and Miss Con- 
nie in the tree-house. 

“The Candors have invited Primrose to go 
with you and me to the housewarming. Miss Con- 
nie,” she said. “Oh! Do you think Mr. Garland 
will let her?” 

“Think? I just know that he will. You leave 
that to me, Betty dear. We’ll ask him to-day, 
when we go up the mountain to help Primrose and 
Mr. Garland pack their books, But I know he 
will consent,” 


RECEIVING THE NEWS 


295 

“Oh I It seems too good to be true!” said 
Betty. 

“It does, indeed,” Miss Connie agreed. “I 
cannot believe it is all real — that I have found my 
grandparents and the Garlands, too, and that all 
my new relations are so lovely. Betty has told 
me all about them in this last day or two,” she ex- 
plained, “and let me read parts of her brother’s 
letters about them. I know I’d adore the Can- 
dors, even if they did not belong to me. It does 
seem too good to be true, as Betty says.” 

“Now, in that I do not agree with you,” said 
Mr. Anderson. “I always disagree when people 
say that anything is too good to be true. For the 
best things are true — and the truest things are 
best, too — like loving families and all-out-doors 
and simple kindness.” 

“Well, one thing is true and good, both,” said 
Betty. “I certainly am a happy person. And I 
think everything is just exactly right. Now, if 
you grown-ups will just arrange about the time 
we must start for the housewarming, and let me 
know the very date as soon as possible. I’ll be 
glad, for Joe and I are planning a surprise.” 

“I think you and Joe Silver have conspired and 
plotted about enough for one summer,” laughed 
Mr. Anderson. 

“Oh, but this isn’t a serious plot, like the other, 


296 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


This is just a jolly one. But it’s a nice one, and 
you’ll like it. So please hurry up and decide.” 
And she smiled back at her parents, mysteriously, 
as she and Miss Connie went off together to help 
the Garlands to pack. 


CHAPTER XXIII 

FAREWELL TO THE HILLS 
^HIS was Betty’s last letter to Robert: 

Albany, October ist. 

Dear, 

It is all real; yet it does not seem as if it could 
happen to one little girl to have all her wishes 
come true. 

We have left the hills; we are on our way to 
you. 

We came down on the train to Albany, Mrs. 
Althorpe and Miss Connie, and my dearest Prim- 
rose and I. We are staying a day at this hotel, 
because Mrs. Althorpe has some old friends here 
in Albany whom she always stops to see on her 
way from the Adirondacks. We shall go back to 
New York on the day-boat to-morrow morning. 
I know Primrose will be perfectly wild with joy 
over the Hudson River, for I love its beauty so 
297 


298 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

much myself. Then Mrs. Althorpe will go home 
for a few days and Miss Connie, Primrose and I 
will take the train for Cape Wildwind and for 
YOU. 

Primrose and Miss Connie are out now, looking 
at the sights of Albany and going through the 
State House; but I have seen these things so often 
that I said Fd rather stay in the room and write 
to you about our farewell to the mountains, and 
the surprise Joe Silver and I planned, and how 
darling everybody was to us. 

They were all truly grieved to have Primrose 
go away — all the country people were. But she 
told them that this was not real good-bye, because 
she must go back and help Mr. Garland pack up. 
Father has promised to take her back on one of 
his trips in a week or so. We think — Mother and 
I — that the real reason for her going back is that 
Primrose and Mr. Garland would prefer to say 
their good-byes to the woods from their own little 
house on the mountain, when all the rest of us 
are gone and only their old country friends are 
around them. 

Primrose and her father are going to live in 
the suburbs of New York. Amico and the pigeon 
will be happy there, because it is like the country. 
Primrose and I are going to spend all the time we 
can and every vacation — Christmas and Easter 


FAREWELL TO THE HILLS 299 

and everything — together, as long as we live. For, 
of course, we are dearest friends. 

Now, I will tell you about the surprise. It was 
a good-by party that Joe and I planned for Prim- 
rose and as a sort of glad ending for this gladdest 
summer. 

Joe Silver is a funny person to plan a party 
with. He just sits still and lets you make the 
suggestions; and, if he doesn’t like them, he just 
keeps on sitting still, and if he does like them he 
gets up right away and begins to do them while 
you are talking. 

Well, this is what we did: 

On the evening before we left, the hotel porches 
were lighted with yellow paper lanterns and funny 
little jack-o’-lanterns made of squashes, because 
the pumpkins are not ready yet. And all the 
country folks came, and the few people left in 
the hotel and in the village boarding-house came, 
too. 

It was a real country party, though. For we 
knew Primrose would like that best. We had 
country dances — “real dancing like you meant 
it,” The Old Woman Under the Hill said, “not 
just tiptoeing and sliding around as I see you city 
folks do.” 

And some of the country people sang sweet, 
old-fashioned songs. Some of them made Father’s 


300 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

eyes get moist because his mother used to sing 
them to him when he was little. 

And there was one old, old man with a fiddle 
and they asked him to play a jig so that another 
old fellow could dance it, and he was as shy 
as a girl and said he was afraid to play before 
so much company. But he didn’t want to be 
unpleasant, so he began in a little scared way, 
quite trembling. So I slipped out and went up- 
stairs and got Mr. Shiver Strings; then I stood 
beside the old man and began to play with him, 
very gently. Of course, I had to follow him 
for a while, for I did not know his jig. Well, 
that gave him confidence and soon we were both 
playing so loud and merrily that not only the 
other old man but also all the guests were up and 
jigging. Even the old fiddler himself was danc- 
ing and playing at the same time and I was keep- 
ing in step behind him, still playing Mr. Shiver 
Strings I 

You never saw anything so gay. 

Mrs. Althorpe was the only one who did not 
jig. But when we were seated and laughing and 
panting, she asked me if I could play a minuet. 
And I did. And Mrs. Althorpe got up and 
danced it! She was so graceful and fine and 
dainty! You have no idea how pretty it was. 
She acted so well that you could imagine her 


FAREWELL TO THE HILLS 301 

partner just as if he were there. I knew, as I 
watched Mrs. Althorpe dance, what Mother 
means when she says she hopes I will be a lady 
in the old sense of that word. To be as lady- 
like as Mrs. Althorpe and fine and delicate 
when I am as old as she is would be perfectly 
lovely — ^but, of course. I’d like to be a little 
warmer, too, and have more fun. She certainly 
did have fun that evening, though, and everybody 
was delighted with Mrs. Althorpe’s dancing. 

Miss Connie sang for us, beautifully. And 
then one old country gentleman went over to 
Primrose and spoke to her and she went and 
spoke to her father and he said, “Do, dear.” 

And then Primrose — blushing and shy and look- 
ing so sweet in a pale-blue muslin — came and 
sang. Her father whistled for her a gentle 
obligato. I will copy out the words for you — 
Primrose wrote them down for me. I wish I 
could send you the tune. It was lovely. And 
Primrose made the words and the music all her- 
self I This is what she sang: 

A little bird flies 
Through distant skies — 

He loves to be off on the wing; 

But he builds his own nest 
In the place he loves best, 


302 THE KIND ADVENTURE 

And there will the little bird sing. 

Oh! There will the happy bird sing! 

And so will my heart 
O’er earth’s beauty dart 
And love to be oflf on the wing; 

But it’s builded its nest 
With the friends it loves best 
And here in the hills it can sing. 

Oh! Here will my loving heart sing! 

At the end of each stanza, Primrose sang like 
a bird in that wonderful way the birds taught 
her. 

All the people knew that Primrose meant her 
song as a message to them that she would always 
love her mountain friends and love this place the 
best of all places. They are a quiet people and 
never do much talking, but they showed Primrose 
that they understood and were deeply touched. 
Primrose is very dear to everybody. 

After the singing, we popped corn and had 
goodies. It was a lovely party. Joe and I shook 
hands when it was over, because it had been a 
success and we were pleased with ourselves. 

In the morning, very early. Primrose and I 
went all over the places that were so dear to 
us and kissed them all good-hy. We blew kisses 
on our fingers in each one and said, loud 


FAREWELL TO THE HILLS 303 

and clear, “Good-by, dear Glen! Good-by, dear 
Road! Good-by, dear Trail! Good-by, dear 
Falls! Good-by, until next summer!” Of course. 
Primrose will see them a little bit more this year; 
but we wanted to say our good-by to our “to- 
gether places” together. 

As we came down the Job Road for the last 
time this summer together, Joe Silver and The 
Old Woman Who Lives Under the Hill stepped 
out of the bushes. The Old Woman kissed us 
and Joe shook hands with us. They were both 
smiling very proudly and happily and the Old 
Woman said, “Heaven bless you both!” and Joe 
Silver said “Amen.” So they just stood beam- 
ing at us as we went back toward the hotel. They 
have good reason to beam, for they made so 
much of the happiness and we hope that Heaven 
will bless them, too. 

Everybody was out on the porch as we rode 
away in the wagon. They waved flags and rang 
the big dinner-bell and blew horns and sang out 
merry messages. 

We felt very tenderly and very happy and our 
eyes were full of tears and laughing, all at the 
same time. 

So our wonderful summer in the woods and the 
hills ended happily and gaily and there are even 


304 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


happier times coming now. And we have very 
thankful hearts. 

Now Fm coming to you quickly, dearest 
Brother. 

Catch mel 


Betty. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


DELIGHT AT CANDOR COTTAGE 

A S the slow little shore train puffed along the 
^ ^ beach, through white sand-dunes waving 
their grassy emerald plumes against a glittering 
blue sea and sky, all three of our travelers were 
silent with excitement. 

Miss Connie was the most deeply moved, for 
she knew that just behind the turn in the shore 
that appeared now and then in the distance lay 
the village where her newly found grandparents 
and all the relatives of her father waited to wel- 
come her. 

Primrose was thrilled with her first journey into 
company, with the joy of traveling with Betty 
and the pleasant opening of her life into wider 
vistas. But, above all, Primrose’s heart beat 
high with joy and awe at the sight of the sea. 

Betty’s eyes kindled because the story of the 
summer was ending so splendidly. And was she 
not going to see the Candors and bring them 
their long-lost “baby”? And was she not going 
305 


3o6 the kind adventure 

straight into the arms of that most glorious of 
brothers? 

Now the train was making its last turn. 
Wraps and suit-cases were gathered up. 

Now the little red station came in sight. Pas- 
sengers rose to their feet. 

“There’s Robert! There! There!” 

“And there’s the Captain — I’m sure it is he!” 

“And Mother Candor getting out of the car- 
riage !” 

“Isn’t she lovely?” 

“Oh, joy!” 

There was joy indeed. 

While Bob held Betty fondly, Mother Candor 
and the Captain drew Miss Connie to their hearts 
and kissed her. They would hold her at arm’s 
length and look at her and then, as if very much 
pleased with what they saw, they would give 
little runs to her and kiss her again. 

Primrose stood by, smiling delightfully at the 
happy sight. 

Then Robert had to become acquainted with 
Primrose and Miss Connie, and the Candors had 
to kiss and welcome the little girls; and every 
one was so overjoyed and it was all so real and 
hearty that by the time they were all tucked in 
the carriage going to the Candors’ old house, 
they were all old friends and the Candors and 


DELIGHT AT CANDOR COTTAGE 307 

Miss Connie seemed just as much grandparents 
and granddaughter as if they had been together 
all the time. 

“Isn’t it sweet to see them?” Betty whispered 
to Primrose. 

Primrose and Betty sat, one on each side of 
Robert, on the back seat of the carriage, all 
holding hands. And the Captain and Mother 
Candor sat on the front seat, one on each side 
of Miss Connie, with their arms around her. 
And every few minutes one of them would kiss 
her and she would kiss them back again. 

“Don’t you think they make a pretty picture. 
Bob?” asked Betty. 

Robert said he never thought there could be 
anything so pretty in the world. Miss Connie 
overheard Betty’s question and Robert’s answer 
and something in his tone made her blush as rosy 
as a pink. 

The Candors made almost as much fuss over 
Betty and Primrose as they did over Miss Con- 
nie herself, and kept turning about every few min- 
utes to beam at them. 

Mother Candor said, “I’d have known either 
of you, my dears, anywhere in the world, be- 
cause you look exactly like yourselves.” 

That was such a funny thing to say that it 
made them both laugh, and their laughing made 


3o8 the kind adventure 

the Candors laugh; and there was not a bit of 
strangeness after that, for laughing together is 
the very best way to make friends. 

When they reached the old cottage, all the 
sons and daughters and grandchildren of the 
Candor family came running to meet them. They 
were sweet and hospitable to Primrose and Betty, 
and, as for Miss Connie, of course they were be- 
side themselves with joy over her. 

They all called her Constance, which seemed 
a little queer to Betty at first. But she soon felt 
that it suited her far better than Connie, and she 
was glad that they chose it. 

Miss Connie went off with her new family to 
get better acquainted, and Robert took Betty and 
Primrose down to the beach. 

Primrose was “perfectly wild,” as Betty put 
it, over the sea. Betty had never seen her quiet 
little friend so excited. She kept running down 
to the water’s edge and looking and looking. 

“It looks,” she said to Robert, with whom 
she had felt at ease from the start, “it looks like 
the clouds when you look down upon them from 
the top of Mt. Marcy. Only the sea is more 
mighty,” she added in her quaint, grown-up way. 
“The clouds are like a dream of the sea.” 

The rocks and the shells and the sand gave 
intense pleasure to her. And when Robert took 


DELIGHT AT CANDOR COTTAGE 309 

the little girls for a sail in The Violet Dawn, 
she was in ecstasy. 

They all gathered in the Pine Grove for lunch- 
eon, the whole Candor clan and their Constance, 
and Robert and his Betty and her Primrose. 

The younger members of the Candor family 
made friends with Betty and Primrose and started 
immediately forming plans for their entertain- 
ment. 

There were so many of these young Candors 
that Betty said it was like having a club in your 
own family ; and one small boy informed her with 
great pride, “Well, we have got a baseball team, 
all in the family, and we hold the pennant, too.” 

The grown-up Candors thought the little girls 
charming. They did all they could to make 
Primrose feel thoroughly at home; and they 
thanked Betty so often and profusely for finding 
the blue Bible that she felt she had to say, 
“You’re thanking me more than I deserve. In- 
deed you are. For, really, I did nothing but 
keep my eyes open as Bob had asked me.” 

Then they began praising Betty’s dear Bob, 
too, and that pleased her more and made her 
prouder of him than ever, if possible. Miss 
Connie said that he was the only young man 
she had ever seen who was good enough to be 
Betty’s brother. And Robert said that now he 


310 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


felt as Betty did, that his reward was greater 
than his merits. 

Miss Connie went to rest with her new aunts 
and cousins in the afternoon, and Primrose and 
Betty and the other children played on the beach, 
while Robert and their host and hostess went 
to the new cottage to prepare for the housewarm- 
ing that evening. 

After the early supper, just before twilight, in 
that long, pale-glowing, colorful light that Brown- 
ing calls “the quiet colored end of evening,” a 
little bell rang out from the tower of the new 
cottage. 

“They’re ready! It’s beginning! Come on! 
Come on !” the Candor children cried out. It was 
the summons to call all the family and friends 
to the housewarming. 

People began to gather there from all quarters. 

The Candor cottage, new as it was, seemed to 
have grown right out of the rocks and the sands 
and the pines and the sea — which is just what a 
house should do to its surroundings. Some sea- 
side cottages, and houses in other places, too, 
look as if they had been dropped down by mis- 
take and really belonged to some other part of 
the world entirely. They look homesick and 
queer and as if they just couldn’t get used to 
their neighborhood, But the Candor Cottage 


DELIGHT AT CANDOR COTTAGE 311 

looked as if it fitted that particular spot best 
on earth and couldn’t possibly be as happy any- 
where else in the world. 

The family and guests gathered in the rocky 
garden in the twilight, just as a slender moon 
slipped up over the cloud-tops and the first stars 
pierced the dull evening-blue of the sky. 

To each one was given a lighted lantern — not 
paper Japanese lanterns, but ship lanterns, as 
was appropriate to the Candors — and a long 
taper. 

“I wonder what they’re for,” cried Betty. 

“Look I” Primrose exclaimed. “Something is 
written on the lanterns.” 

To be sure, the lanterns were marked in gold 
paint: Friendship, Patience, Peace, Love, Faith, 
Service, and lots of other virtues and good quali- 
ties. Every one looked to see what his or her 
lantern said. Robert’s friend, Ronald, got Per- 
severance; and that made all his friends laugh, 
for they said that nobody had more of that 
quality than Ron. Primrose and Betty both re- 
ceived Friendship lanterns. They were very glad 
and thought it a singular coincidence and took it 
for a sign that they would be always friends. 
But Robert’s eyes twinkled so that some people 
suspected that their getting the two Friendship 
lanterns might not be so hard to explain. 


312 THE KIND ADVENTURE 


The people looked lovely and fairylike moving 
about in the evening light with the lighted lan- 
terns. Every one wondered what was to be done 
with the tapers, but the guests were not told. 
They were merely instructed to keep them. 

As it grew darker beach-fires flared up all 
around and gave the place a very festive look. 

Then all the children of the village — the grand- 
children and grandnieces and nephews of the Can- 
dors and their little friends — took hands in a circle 
around the cottage. The ring reached all the 
way around. They all wore white dresses or 
white suits and had long blue scarfs, with silver 
stars on them, floating around them like a mist. 

“It is like a fairy ring! I never saw anything 
so exquisite,” said Betty. 

“Father has a copy of a picture called The 
Pleiades , said Primrose. “It is just like that.” 

The circle of children began to move around in 
a graceful dancing measure, and hidden guitars 
began to play, and the children sang sweetly: 

We are weaving a charm, a charm 
To keep this beautiful home from harm, 

We are weaving a wonderful grace 
To bless this beautiful dwelling-place. 

Love weaves the charm. 

Love weaves the grace, 


DELIGHT AT CANDOR COTTAGE 313 

The charm and the grace 
That bless this place! 

We are blessing the home, a home 

For all good friends who ever may come; 

We are blessing this heart, these hearts 
With every good that our love imparts. 

Love bless the hearts. 

Love bless the home. 

The hearts and the home 
To which friends may come! 

Then there were fireworks — such lovely ones! 
But the brightest of all the pyrotechnics was Prim- 
rose Garland, who had never seen fireworks in 
all her life before and nearly leaped into the 
air after the rockets with rapture. 

Captain Candor said that nobody would have 
been able to tell her from a rocket if she had 
succeeded in following one into the heavens, for 
her face was as bright as any of them. 

Then the choir from the little church where 
the Candors had worshiped all their lives sang 
a lovely hymn. 

The last fireworks flared up with the words t 
Welcome AIL 

“That is the sign that we are to go into the 
house,” said Robert. “I thought those the most 


314 


THE KIND ADVENTURE 


appropriate words for the Candors, for they cer- 
tainly do welcome all.” 

Inside the house, Betty thought, was even 
prettier than without. 

“Hustle, hustle I” Robert had said. “I want 
you to be among the first to enter, because I want 
you to see it before It Is all hidden by the 
crowds.” 

It was cosy and yet roomy, simple and clear 
of all claptrap and foolish ornament and yet so 
beautiful and homey and comfortable I 

“Captain Candor always said that he wanted 
a home that should be as trim and shipshape as 
a good vessel and yet as pretty and graceful and 
sweet as a flower-garden,” said Robert. “And 
that Is what this house Is.” 

“It looks like just the right frame for my 
grandparents,” said Miss Connie. 

“That is what it was meant to be,” answered 
the gratified young architect, Robert. “And I’m 
sure they will be as happy as they are beautiful 
and kind In It.” 

In the Immense stone fireplace a great fire was 
laid but not lighted, though the evening was be- 
ginning to be chilly. Then the guests soon saw 
what their tapers were for. Each of them 
lighted a taper at his or her lantern and then 
applied the taper light to the big pile of kin- 


DELIGHT AT CANDOR COTTAGE 315^ 


dling. Soon the great fire was burning brilliantly 
— all lighted from the tapers of loving friends 
and kinsfolk and from the flame of the precious 
virtues. 

“Oh, Isn’t that a beauteous Ideal” Primrose 
cried. 

All sat round the fire, the children on the big 
rug and the grown-ups on chairs and window- 
seats and the seats in the Ingle nook. There they 
had a “folksy” time — that Is what the Captain 
called it — talking and laughing and having re- 
freshments. 

The Captain and his friends told some thrill- 
ing sea-stories that made the “landlubbers’ ” eyes 
open. 

They played games and had charades, and 
Miss Connie sang so sweetly that all the Can- 
dors were prouder of her than ever. And Betty’s 
sweet Primrose sang, too; and the children were 
enraptured with the sounds of the forest that she 
kept In her slim little throat. And Mr. Shiver 
Strings did his best, to everybody’s delight, while 
Miss Connie accompanied him on the pretty little 
new piano that was the pride of Mother Candor’s 
heart. 

Mother Candor announced that she was going 
to learn to play the piano, too. She said, “Pm 
not too old, at all. Pll put to shame some of 


3i6 the kind adventure 

my grandchildren who will not practice ; you shall 
see!” 

“How can she be too old for anything she 
wishes to do, with such a spirit of youth in her 
heart?” said Robert. 

Then everybody sang together and that was 
the best of all. 

And then a voice outside called, very loud and 
merry, “Captain Candor, ahoy!” 

“It’s Tim Andrews!” cried Mother Candor 
exultantly. “We cabled for him to come; but 
we scarcely dared hope he could get here in time.” 

They opened the door and there stood the 
big, bearded, red-haired man, with his hands ex- 
tended in greeting. 

It was charming to see the Candors greet him 
as if he were their son. For their John’s de- 
voted friend was indeed like another son to 
them. 

They led Miss Connie to him and told him 
that she was John Candor’s baby, and he kissed 
her and said, “You see. I’m a sort of uncle of 
yours, my dear,” and that made everybody laugh. 

Then Tim looked around, letting his radiant 
smile shine on all the assembly, and he saw Betty 
and Primrose. 

He pointed to Betty and asked, “Who’s the 
pansy blossom?” and to Primrose, asking, “Who’s 


DELIGHT AT CANDOR COTTAGE 317 

the bit of sunny spray?” And that set them 
laughing again. 

But the Captain soon said, “Let us not forget 
to give thanks for our great joy!” and Ronald’s 
father, the Dominie, led them In simple thanks- 
giving, while Miss Connie played very gently on 
the piano, “Praise God from whom all blessings 
flow.” 

When Miss Connie and Primrose and Betty 
and Robert sat together on the porch enjoying 
the broad stretch of moonlight that lay upon the 
ocean, Betty sighed and said, half earnestly, half 
jestingly, “Robert, I wish you and I were found 
to be related to somebody. Miss Connie is the 
Candors’ grandchild and Primrose is Miss Con- 
nie’s cousin — and Miss Connie says she Is going 
to be her little sister. I wish I could be her little 
sister, too.” 

There was a rather embarrassed silence for a 
moment, and then Robert said, “Well, all your 
other wishes have come true, Betty. Let us hope 
that this one may.” 

Miss Connie changed the subject quickly and 
acted as if she had not heard, but Betty felt that 
she had heard and was not displeased. And, 
suddenly, a new bright hope began to grow in 
Betty’s heart, the hope that some day she might 
truly come to be Miss Connie’s little sister. 


3i8 the kind adventure 

When it got so late that most of the children 
were sleepy, the guests took their departure. 

All the people went home, singing happily, 
while Mother and Captain Candor and Con- 
stance and Primrose and Betty and Robert waved 
to them from the lighted porch. 

“A wondrous success to our kind adventures I” 
Robert whispered to Betty. 

“And so our kind adventures are over,” said 
Betty and sighed a little wistfully. She felt as 
one does who has just finished an interesting 
book; she was glad it had all ended happily but 
sorry that the story was done. 

“No, little sister; they are just beginning,” an- 
swered Robert. “For to friendly hearts all life 
is a kind adventure.” 


THE END 




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